Milestones
by tgrfan23
Summary: AU, Post-Conventioneers. Follow along as Wayne and Grace celebrate the important moments - big and small - in their lives as a couple. M rating is for smut, angst and adult themes. Ch. 23: the Rigsby family celebrates Valentine's Day. sort of
1. Return to the Scene of the Crime

A/N: Well, I told myself after I finished _Conventioneers_ that I was gonna take some time off from writing, but my brain was still stuck on Vegas, and this is the result. This is going to be sort of a story collection, rather than a linear progression of one story, focusing on special moments in Wayne and Grace's lives together, as already established in _Conventioneers_, _His Girls_ and _Her Diamonds_. If you haven't read any of those stories, you won't necessarily be totally lost, but you won't get many of the references to _Conventioneers_ in this chapter. I hope you all enjoy. - aml

* * *

_Wednesday, 7P.M._

Wayne Rigsby arrived home after a very long day at the CBI, and was quite surprised to find his house mostly dark and his wife nowhere to be found, despite the fact that she'd been working from home that day and her car was in the driveway.

"Grace?" he called. He heard footsteps tramping up the stairs from their basement, and quickly realized that she'd been doing laundry. Sure enough, she poked through the door with a basket of freshly-folded clothes in her hands. "Are you packing already? We're not leaving until Friday morning."

She paused on the top step, and instead of greeting him with her customary peck on the cheek, she scowled. "That, mister, is a fine way to greet your wife four days before your anniversary."

Rigsby was suitably chastened. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. Let me start over, okay?" She gestured for him to continue. "Hi honey, how was your day? Here, let me take the laundry upstairs for you." He pried the basket out of her hands and settled it on his side. He noticed that the vast majority of the clothes in the basket were her lingerie, and a big grin settled on his face at the notion that she would be bringing it with her on their upcoming anniversary trip. As he set the basket down on their bed, he felt her arms wrap around his waist and he turned to draw in her into a deep kiss, tumbling backwards onto the bed as he did so.

"Hey," he whispered huskily, as he leaned in for another kiss. "How are you feeling? Any better today?"

She settled into his lap and smiled. "Much better, actually. The doctors said I'm no longer contagious, but I still have three days of antibiotics to take. But it's fine, I'm good to go for this weekend. You're lucky you haven't gotten sick yourself, you know."

"I had strep three times when I was a kid, I think I'll take my chances."

She leaned in and kissed him on the nose. "Fine. But don't say I didn't warn you," she warned, moving to put away her laundry. Unfortunately, she wasn't quite fast enough as Rigsby hooked his arm around her, tossing her back onto the bed and pinning her underneath him.

"I love you, Grace," he murmured as he eased down on top of her.

_Thursday, 10P.M._

"Grace?" Rigsby called from inside their bedroom closet.

"What do you need, honey?" she yelled back as she tossed her pajamas into her suitcase, confident that she had everything she needed and zipping up the bag.

Rigsby's head poked out of the closet, a very frustrated look on his face. "I can't find my black suit!"

"As I told you when you walked in the door tonight, your black suit is hanging in the front hall closet with the rest of the dry cleaning, including your black shirt and the silver striped tie you love so much." She turned back to her packing and realized she hadn't included her silver pumps. Exasperated, she tugged open the suitcase and pondered how she was going to be able to re-arrange her clothes to make the shoes fit. She heard her husband running back up the stairs and swatted his hands as he tried to remove her pajamas from the bag.

"You won't be needing those this weekend," he growled as he started nibbling a path from her shoulder up to her neck.

Her head lolled back onto his shoulder. "Oh really? And what, exactly, am I supposed to wear to bed, then?"

Rigsby continued nibbling, swiping a particularly ticklish spot behind her ear before responding.

"Nothing."

_Friday, 11A.M._

As their cab sat in traffic on Las Vegas Boulevard, Van Pelt brought Rigsby's hand to her lips and gently kissed the inside of his wrist. "I can't believe you talked me into coming back here for our trip."

He turned to her and smiled mischievously. "This is, after all, where it all started. How could I not? Plus, I still owe you that tour of Hoover Dam, remember?"

She smiled broadly. "That's on our agenda for tomorrow, right?" He nodded, loving the childlike glee on her face at finally getting to check another historical site off her "places to visit" list.

The cab pulled up to the front drive of the MGM Grand and a concierge approached to open Grace's door. "Welcome to the MGM Grand Hotel and Casino. Is this your first visit with us, ma'am?"

Grace climbed out of the car, flooded by fond memories of their prior visit to the city. "No, actually. My husband and I were here two years ago. We're celebrating our anniversary this weekend."

"Congratulations to both of you. If you need anything during your stay, my name is Chris. The concierge staff is at your service."

Van Pelt turned back to the cab, where Rigsby was unloading their suitcases and settling up with the cabbie. "Wayne? I'm going to head inside and see if we can check in. We're a little early."

"Okay, I'll catch up with you in a minute."

Grace was very surprised to discover that there was no line at the check-in desk; she was certain that since they arrived so early in the day, their room wouldn't be ready and they'd have some time to kill. She approached the desk apprehensively. "Hello, my husband and I are here to check in; I know we're a little early. The reservation should be under Wayne and Grace Rigsby?" _Grace Rigsby. _Even after a year, she still got tiny butterflies at the sound of her "new" name.

The reservations agent clacked away at her computer and swiftly assembled a packet with a spa brochure, grounds map, and two computer-programmed room keys. "Mrs. Rigsby, your suite is all ready for you. You've been upgraded to one of our lovely Glamour Suites on the 15th floor. The 15th and 16th floors are our VIP level; just insert your room key into the slot in the elevators and they'll take you straight to your floor."

Grace was dumbfounded as the young woman handed over the documents and keys. "I'm sorry, I don't understand … we've been upgraded?"

"Yes ma'am, that's what the computer says. There's a note on the reservation … happy anniversary from an anonymous benefactor?" She was truly puzzled, even more so when Grace relaxed and grinned broadly.

"Thank you - Angela, is it? I think I know who is responsible for this." She motioned to Rigsby, who was headed for the elevators along with the concierge and their luggage.

"What's that big grin on your face for? I've seen that smile only a couple of times, and every time, it's because Patrick Jane has pulled some kind of crazy stunt."

She tapped him on the nose. "Bingo. Matchmaker extraordinaire has struck again. We've been upgraded to a suite on the 15th floor. VIP and everything."

Rigsby whistled. "Nice. Let's check it out, shall we?" They practically raced to the elevators, leaving their poor bellhop in their dust.

_Saturday, 9A.M._

Rigsby was up unusually early for a Saturday morning. They had plans to visit Hoover Dam that day, and he wanted to get Grace out of the hotel by 10AM so they'd have plenty of time to tour the site, poke around and get back to Vegas with time to spare before their 8PM dinner reservations. He was showered and fully dressed before Grace was even awake. He leaned down and started to gently tug at the sheets and blankets covering her naked body. She fought back, but not before the linens slipped down to her waist, exposing her breasts. She instinctively covered up with one arm, causing Rigsby to burst into laughter.

"Baby, you do realize that I've seen those before, right? I happen to like them quite a bit, actually. However, if we want to get to the Dam before lunchtime, you need to get moving."

She rolled out of bed and sauntered off to the bathroom, totally naked. "Fine. Too bad you've already showered; I was going to ask you to join me." She disappeared into the bathroom.

"I have to head downstairs to pick up our rental car; I'll be back in a half-hour. Make sure you're ready to go, okay?" he called after her. Hearing nothing but the shower running, he assumed that she heard him and walked out the door.

He returned promptly thirty minutes later, to find Grace tossing items in her purse – sunglasses, sunscreen, camera. Satisfied that she had everything she needed, she turned and graced him with a huge smile and a kiss. "Can we stop for coffee and breakfast on our way out?"

_10:30A.M._

They pulled into the parking deck at the Visitor Center nearly an hour later. As they approached the massive complex, Rigsby realized that there was a lot more to do here than he'd originally anticipated and that they probably wouldn't get it all done that afternoon. Some negotiating was going to be in order.

"It looks like there are two options for tours – the Powerplant Tour and the Dam Tour. Which one do you want to go on, babe?"

She perused the brochures and pondered the options. "The Powerplant Tour looks like fun. Why don't we do that one?"

Rigsby walked up to the ticket window and purchased two tickets for the 11AM tour. As they made their way through the complex, Grace took copious notes for her dad, grabbing every map and brochure she could get her hands on, and taking tons of pictures of the dam and Lake Mead. Rigsby had to admit, some areas of the site were pretty picturesque. They stopped at the Visitor Center Observation Deck before heading back to the car, as Grace wanted to rest her feet for a minute and check the pictures on her camera. Rigsby decided to head outside, get some fresh air and have a look at the lake. After a couple of minutes, he heard the telltale "click" of Grace's camera, and turned around to see her grinning. She waved over one of the Visitor Center employees, asking the young woman if she would mind taking a picture of them in front of the lake. They posed cheerfully, arms wrapped around each other and huge smiles on their faces.

_3:30P.M._

They arrived back at the hotel after stopping for a quick lunch on the way home. Rigsby almost tripped over a small red envelope on the floor in the foyer, with their names written in silver ink. He flopped onto the couch as Van Pelt settled at the desk to download her pictures onto her laptop.

"What's in the envelope, honey?"

"An anniversary gift from Jane, looks like Cirque du Soleil tickets again."

She didn't even look up from her computer. "Which show? _O_ again? Ooh, maybe _Love_, that's the Beatles show, that would be fun."

He squinted at the tickets again, deciphering the lettering. "Nope, looks like _Zumanity_? It's the one at New York, New York. I'm not familiar with this one, though."

"Well, let's go ahead and check it out online, shall we?" She clacked away at her computer, then lapsed into total silence. Rigsby craned his neck to see what she'd found, and discovered a very bizarre look on his wife's face – a mix of surprise, shock, a tiny bit of embarrassment, and was that lust? Confused, he got up to look over her shoulder.

"Oh my God, .God. Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?" he asked, dumbfounded.

Grace laughed. "Apparently they call this the 'sensual' side of Cirque du Soleil?"

"You know, we don't **have** to go, if you don't want to."

She thought about it for a minute. "I'm not going to give Patrick Jane the satisfaction of finding out that we chickened out on this show just because it's a little racy. Besides," she murmured as she stood up and leaned to whisper directly in his ear, "who knows? It could be … inspirational."

All the color drained from Rigsby's face as he considered the implications of her statement. "Are you sure you aren't … inspired right now?" he asked hopefully.

She smiled devilishly. "I think a nap is in order first. You can wait a few more hours, right?"

_7:30P.M._

Rigsby was sitting on the couch, tapping his foot impatiently. He was dressed and itching to head out for their 8 o'clock dinner reservation at Gallagher's, but Grace hadn't emerged from the bathroom yet. "Grace? Honey, we need to get going, our reservation is in a half hour, are you ready to go?"

She appeared in the doorway and all the blood in his body went straight to his groin. "I am now." She was wearing the red dress – he'd only seen it on her once during their botched sting at the restaurant in Napa, but once was enough. It was cut to reveal a considerable amount of cleavage and still fit her like a glove. Accentuating the deep V-neckline was a delicate diamond pendant that her parents had given her as a wedding gift. She kept her makeup and hair simple, but the overall effect was stunning.

Rigsby whistled sharply. "Baby, you look amazing. Are you sure we can't just stay in tonight?"

Van Pelt smiled seductively, walking over to the couch, grabbing the end of Rigsby's tie, and gently tugging him to his feet. She leaned up to place a gentle kiss on his lips, then pulled his tie over her shoulder and all but dragged him out of the room.

_10P.M._

Rigsby and Van Pelt emerged from Gallagher's restaurant at New York New York after finishing a leisurely dinner and a bottle of white wine. Realizing that they had a little time to kill before heading to the theater, they decided to wander around the New York streetscape, checking out the various shops and restaurants.

When they arrived at the theater, they were escorted all the way down to the front row and directed to one of several two-person couches situated near the stage. Rigsby groaned to himself as they settled into their seats; he'd managed to keep himself together during dinner by focusing on the food, a difficult proposition given that Grace had been playing footsie with him the entire time. Now he had to sit on a comfortable couch less than twenty feet from a group of renowned acrobats simulating sex on a stage with his extremely beautiful wife at his side and he was expected to behave himself for another two hours? No way, no how was that gonna happen. He relaxed as the house lights dimmed and the show started.

About halfway through the performance, he became painfully aware of Grace's hand slowly but surely inching from his knee towards his crotch. As her fingertips stroked him lightly, he tried every trick on the book to ward off his arousal – counting to ten, counting to fifty, counting to a hundred; hell, he even attempted some of the yoga breathing exercises Grace had tried to teach him – but none of it was working. He had to go for the drastic measure. Grabbing Grace's hand sharply, he leaned down to whisper in her ear, carefully avoiding looking down the front of her dress.

"Baby, if you don't stop that RIGHT NOW, we are not going to make it through the rest of this show, and I promise you, everyone in this theater will know exactly why we left early."

Grace smiled and rested her hand on his knee for the rest of the performance.

As soon as the house lights came back up, Rigsby grabbed Grace's hand and pulled her in the direction of the nearest exit, which spit them back out onto Village Street. Given the late hour, they were both surprised to see a ton of people still roaming the main floor and populating several of the restaurants, and they had to dodge numerous groups in their haste to get to the walkway that would take them back to the MGM. By the time they arrived at the MGM's elevators, they were both out of breath and panting. The doors opened, and Rigsby shoved their card key into the slot on the panel, ensuring that they would be the only two people in the car on the way up to the 15th floor. The doors had barely closed when Rigsby, a predatory glare pasted on his face, pinned Van Pelt against the back wall and attacked her with a bruising kiss.

"That is part of your punishment for torturing me during the show," he growled into her ear. Suddenly, the elevator doors opened and she swiped their hotel room key from his hand as she ran out the door. She turned briefly and grinned deviously.

"Punishment? Is that all you got?" And then she took off for their suite.

Rigsby caught up to her just before the door closed and saw her silver heels carelessly tossed off in the foyer. He kicked off his own shoes, dropped his jacket on the couch and reached up to loosen his tie. He stopped dead in his tracks when he realized that Grace was already in the bedroom, red dress hanging over the desk chair, totally naked save for a red lace g-string that could barely qualify as undergarments. She'd tossed all the pillows off the bed and was kneeling at the edge of the mattress, a come-hither look on her face.

"You have two minutes to divest yourself of those clothes, or you're not getting any sex tonight, mister."

Rigsby had never disrobed faster in his life. Tie, dress shirt, pants, socks, boxers – all of it came flying off in record time, haphazardly discarded on the floor wherever each piece landed. He reached for her panties and got both hands smacked for his troubles.

"Not so fast, sweetie. Not until I have you where I really want you."

"And where, pray tell, would that be, my love?" He got his answer quickly, as she grabbed him by the shoulders and tossed him up against the headboard, back to the wall. _Now I understand why she dumped all the pillows off the bed_, he thought to himself. She climbed into his lap, pressing her breasts into his chest and peppering his face with kisses, successfully distracting him from the knowledge that her hands were snaking down his chest, reaching for his erection.

"You've been hard since before we left for dinner, haven't you?" she asked as she slowly stroked her fingernails up and down his cock.

"Yes, oh God, yes. You playing footsie with me under the table didn't help at all."

More stroking, slowly becoming firmer and more rhythmic. "Did you spend the whole night wondering what was under my dress?" He nodded, and bent down to leave trail of kisses and bite marks all around her neck. "I bet you were hoping that I wasn't wearing anything at all, weren't you?"

"All I wanted to do was find a secluded dark spot somewhere I could fuck you without anyone noticing." His breathing was becoming more and more ragged and uneven, and Grace knew that if she didn't take pity on him soon, she was going have what little control of this encounter she had left taken away from her. She reared up onto her knees, reached for his hands, and they pulled off her panties together. Reaching for the edge of the headboard right above his shoulders, she slowly sank down onto his erection, and smiled at the mixture of relief and ecstasy on his face. She immediately felt his hand grip her shoulder blades and his knees pin her into place. He used that leverage to start thrusting impossibly hard into her; she used her leverage with the headboard to counter his attacks, trying to fuse their hips together.

They needed mere minutes to get so close to climaxing that they simultaneously started mumbling semi-coherently.

"Oh God, Wayne, so good. Love it when you fuck me like this. Harder, please. Need all of you, now!"

"Love it when you talk dirty like that, Grace. Keep riding me, just like that. Baby, open your eyes and look at me, please," he pleaded.

She did as asked, pressing their foreheads together. The intensity of the love in Rigsby's eyes flooded her, and she felt her orgasm steadily rippling through her body, until it crashed over her in a massive wave and her muscles started to spasm of their own accord. Rigsby's arms clamped around her back, holding her in place like a vise as his thrusts became more and more erratic and he spilled into her with a roar that would have been deafening, if he'd had enough breath to scream in the first place. They sat like that for several minutes, coming down from the high of having had amazing sex. Rigsby's hold on her lessened just enough for her to climb off his lap, and settle on her side on the bed, resting her head on his arm. They lay like that, arms and legs entwined, drifting off to sleep, until Rigsby broke the silence.

"Baby, it's Sunday. You know what that means, right?"

She smiled sleepily. She knew, but she was going to let him have this one.

"It's the 25th. One year ago today, you made me the luckiest man alive. I love you so much. Happy anniversary."

She drew him down to her and poured every ounce of love she possessed into their kiss. "If you're the luckiest man alive, then I must be the luckiest woman alive. I love you too, sweetheart."

_Sunday, 10A.M._

Van Pelt awoke the next morning to the smell of … waffles? Sunday morning breakfast typically meant pancakes, but they weren't at home, so that was out. As she blinked the confusion out of her eyes, she saw her husband moving platters and silverware from a room service tray onto the dining table in their room. She sat up, reaching for the bathrobe that had been placed at the foot of the bed (he was wearing the other one) and wrapped the warm, fluffy terrycloth around her.

"Good morning," she said as she eased gingerly onto one of the chairs and surveyed the food. He'd ordered her favorites – Belgian Waffles with strawberries and whipped cream, scrambled eggs, and orange juice. "This looks delicious. How did I manage to find a husband who knows all my favorite things?" she asked with a wink.

"Good luck, I guess," he responded with a smile. "What time is your spa appointment?" he asked in between huge bites of waffle.

"My massage is at 11:30, then I'm having a manicure and pedicure done, so I should be gone about two hours. Are you gonna be able to entertain yourself while I'm gone?"

"I'm sure I'll find something to do. Am I allowed to gamble on this trip?"

"As long as you use your own money, and nothing out of our joint account, you can do whatever you like." She downed the last of her orange juice. "I'm getting in the shower. You're welcome to join me, if you like."

Rigsby almost choked on his last bite of waffle, but didn't need to be asked twice as he leapt up from the table and followed her into the bathroom.

_2P.M._

Grace returned to the suite after her spa appointment and immediately made a beeline for the couch. No amount of yoga or relaxation techniques could override the fact that the massage she'd chosen made her feel like she'd gone ten rounds with a mixed martial artist. _Never again_, she thought to herself. _Next time, I'm choosing a nice, normal massage, not a one-hour torture session._ She flipped on the TV to see if her Cubs were playing that afternoon, and noticed a note from her husband on the coffee table.

_Grace -_

_Went downstairs to try my luck at the slots. Only took out $50, I promise! Have a couple of errands to run this afternoon; meet me at 5:30 at our spot in front of the Bellagio. Dinner will be waiting for you._

_Love you._

_-Wayne_

It took her a minute to process what he meant by "their spot," until she remembered their first "real" kiss, on a bench facing the hotel's famous fountains. Smiling at his heretofore well-hidden sentimentality, she relaxed into the couch and settled in to watch some baseball.

_5P.M_.  
Rigsby tapped his foot somewhat impatiently as he waited at the counter at In-N-Out for his order to be called. He'd told Grace to meet him at the Bellagio at 5:30, and knowing her, she'd probably show up a little early, so he needed to get moving. Just then, his number was called; he grabbed the bag of food and hoofed it out the door.

_5:30_

As Grace approached the lake and saw the little picnic he'd set up for them on "their" bench – cheeseburgers and fries from In-N-Out; a chocolate milkshake for her, and a Cherry Coke for him – she laughed at the extent of his sentimentality. Placing a wet smack on his lips, she sat down and dove into her burger; she'd skipped lunch and was therefore starving.

"How was your massage?"

"I'm still feeling it. Next time I even think about booking another one of those, remind me that every muscle in my body was still screaming at me nearly four hours later."

"Will do. Hey, save some room for dessert, there, I brought along some treats you might like." He reached down into a shopping bag sitting at his feet and extracted a small brown box with a pink bow.

"Ethel's! You remembered," exclaimed as she extracted a candy from the box.

"Of course I remembered. I'm your husband, it's my job to remember these things."

"Doesn't mean you necessarily have to be good at it," she smirked. She ate her last bite of cheeseburger and tossed the wrappers in the bag. She climbed into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. "Got any more surprises for me?"

"One more, but you'll have to wait until we get back to the hotel for that. In the meantime, the show is starting."

"I'm more interested in what's right in front of me," she murmured as she leaned in to kiss him.

_7P.M._

As they arrived back at the hotel, Rigsby steered Van Pelt straight to the couch. "Wait here, honey, I have to check real quick and make sure that your last surprise is ready."

"Do you want me to close my eyes?"

"Only if you want to."

She decided to close her eyes and determine if she could figure out what her surprise was just from the sounds. She heard some rustling coming from the bedroom, then water rushing out of the faucet in the enormous jacuzzi tub and the telltale pop of a cork. Champagne and a bubble bath, if she had to guess. More rustling; clothes this time? "Wayne? Honey, can I come in now? I need to grab your gift out of my bag."

"Yes, babe, everything's ready," he called back.

She rummaged through her suitcase and retrieved the small black box containing his gift. Since she knew she was going to be hopping in the tub, she decided to strip out of her clothes and threw on the bathrobe. Peeking her head around the door of the bathroom, she saw her husband already fully submerged under a mountain of bubbles, two champagne flutes next to his hand, the edge of the tub ringed with peach-scented candles of varying sizes. She couldn't help but giggle.

Rigsby looked up and realized that she'd been staring. "What's so funny, missy? Can't a man enjoy a nice bubble bath every now and again?"

She set her black box down next to a very similar one that she assumed contained her gift, and dropped the robe to the floor. She knew right then and there that she would never get tired of seeing her husband's reaction to seeing her naked. She eased down into the steaming tub, grateful for the heat easing her sore muscles and joints. "Of course a man can enjoy a bubble bath. Oh, this feels heavenly."

She wrapped her arms around his neck and started placing tiny kisses in a trail down from one ear and back up to the other.

Rigsby reached for the champagne flutes and handed one to her. "To many, many more years of married bliss." Their glasses clinked together softly.

"I'll drink to that." She set the glass down on the edge of the tub and turned to settle her back against his chest, loving the heat from the water and the warmth of her husband's love. Rigsby let them soak for a few minutes before he started slowly rubbing his hands up and down her arms – one of his telltale "I have a question but I don't know how to ask it" fidgets. Grace titled her head back into his shoulder and looked up to see a very hesitant look on his face.

"Out with it, Rigsby, what do you want to ask me?"

He sighed; he had never been good at hiding from her when he wanted to talk about difficult subjects. He turned her around and pulled her back onto his lap, so they could have the conversation face-to-face.

"Grace, how do you feel about the idea of having a baby? I know we agreed last year that we'd wait until we were married at least a year, but … it's been a year. I see you with those kids you work with at the after-school program, and I just know you'd be the most amazing mother. We're young, we have great jobs, we're financially stable … I think we're ready for a baby."

Grace was almost reduced to tears at the hopefulness and love in her husband's eyes. She reached up to stroke his face, pausing to collect her thoughts. "I've been thinking about it too. And I have to be honest with you, honey, the idea scares the hell out of me. What if something happens to one of us? Are we really ready? And then I realize that if we waited until we were truly ready, we'd be waiting forever. Soooooo, I guess I'm saying that yes, I want to try to have a baby." Water splashed all over the edges of the tub as Rigsby shot up into a sitting position and started kissing his wife frantically.

"Can we start tonight?" he pleaded.

Grace giggled at his eagerness. She pulled his head back away from her neck and dove for his mouth, matching his eagerness with her own. "No, honey, we can't start trying tonight. I'm still on the pill for another month. I have an appointment with my doctor in a few weeks, I'll discuss it with her then, and maybe we can start trying in July?"

"But we can practice in the meantime, right?"

"Well, you know what they say. Practice does make perfect."

Rigsby stood up out of the tub and reached for their bathrobes, wrapping them both in dry, fuzzy terrycloth.

"I love the way you think."


	2. Peanut

A/N: And we're back! This little chapter of Wayne and Grace's story follows a few weeks after the previous chapter; my one-shot, _Her Diamonds_, takes place in between the two. Also, in case it wasn't obvious already, this entire universe is AU from the end of season one onwards. Please make sure that you have thoroughly brushed your teeth before reading this, as I am not – I repeat, NOT – responsible for any cavities. Enjoy!

* * *

Grace was working on a report for her boss in her home office when the phone rang. She grabbed the receiver without even looking at the Caller ID and answered automatically.

"Grace," she recognized the voice as that of one of the nurses from her doctor's office, "it's Sheila from Dr. Grossman's office. Do you have a minute?"

Grace was thrown by the fact that her OB/GYN's office was calling her in the middle of the day. "Um, sure, Sheila, is everything okay?"

Sheila put on her most reassuring voice. "Everything's fine, Grace; your lab tests came back and Dr. Grossman would like to discuss them with you in person. Can you come in later this afternoon? She has a slot available at 4:30, shouldn't take more than a half-hour."

Grace checked her calendar and didn't see any conflicts. "Sure, 4:30 is fine, I'll see you then." She shot a quick email to her boss to let her know that she had a personal matter to attend to later that day, but that she'd have her report ready by 4PM. After sitting back and considering the possibilities for a minute, she opted not to call Wayne and tell him about the appointment. If the meeting really only took a half-hour, she'd be there and back well before he was due home anyway; no point in worrying him unnecessarily. She set her phone to send calls to voice mail, took several deep breaths to banish any momentary panicky thoughts over things she couldn't worry about until later, and dug into finishing her report. She hit the "send" button on her email at 3:55 that afternoon, then gathered her purse and keys, and headed out the door.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Grace walked into her doctor's office and approached the front desk to sign in. Sitting in one of the oversized armchairs in the waiting room, her brain went into overdrive trying to determine what Dr. Grossman could possibly need to talk to her about that was urgent enough for a face-to-face meeting. She'd been in this very office barely a week before, going through the annual exam rigamarole, and Dr G. (as she sometimes referred to herself) had pronounced that everything looked fine, giving her blessing to Wayne and Grace's plans to try to start a family later in the summer.

Sheila interrupted her thoughts. "Grace? Dr. G is ready for you. Come on back." She followed the nurse through the maze of hallways and realized she was being directed to her doctor's actual office, and not one of the exam rooms. Sheila gestured for Grace to have a seat in front of the desk. "She'll be with you in a minute."

Five minutes later, Dr. Grossman arrived and settled down at her desk, an impish smile on her face. "Hi Grace, sorry I'm a little late, my 4PM appointment ran a little bit long. How are you feeling this afternoon?"

"I'm fine, a little nervous though about the test results. What lab tests did you run?"

"Let me ask you a question, Grace. Have you been on any medications in the last couple of weeks? Antibiotics, maybe?"

Grace went completely pale at the implication of that question. Covering her mouth with her hands, she breathed in deeply to keep from beginning to hyperventilate. "I was diagnosed with a mild case of strep about a month ago, and I had to take penicillin for five days. I was all done with that when I came in last week, so I didn't think to mention it."

Dr. Grossman's smile went from impish to knowing. "And the fact that your last period was more than a month ago?"

"A really big case fell apart a few weeks ago, I told Sheila that I chalked it up to stress."

Dr. Grossman leaned back in her desk chair and appraised her patient. "We included a pregnancy test among the lab test requests; it's standard procedure when a patient comes in and indicates that she's ready to start a family. I don't think I have to tell you that yours came back positive."

Grace buried her face in her hands. "Oh my God, ohmyGod. .God."

"I take it this is a little bit of a surprise?"

Grace shook her head. "I know exactly when it happened. While I was recovering from the strep, we were pretty careful, but we went to Las Vegas for our anniversary that weekend, and we got a little … carried away."

This time, Dr. Grossman's smile shifted from knowing to kind. "It happens. You aren't the first, and you definitely won't be the last. By my calculations, you're about six weeks along, which would put your due date around March first. We'll probably end up adjusting that estimate once we do your first ultrasound. Obviously, you need to stop taking your birth control. Are you still doing yoga?" Grace nodded, mutely. "I want you to back off your yoga practice until after your first trimester. You're going to need some time to get used to being pregnant and all the myriad ways the hormones are going to change your body. After the 12-week mark, if you want to try a prenatal class, I can make some recommendations."

Over the course of this conversation, Grace had gone from pale to green. "I've been taking my pills this entire time!"

"Grace, please try to relax. You were on a pretty low-dose combination of hormones anyway, so there's really nothing to worry about. I know that you and Wayne were hoping to start trying in a month or two; how do you think he's going to react to this news?"

Grace choked out a rueful laugh. "He wanted to start trying **last** month. If I had to guess, he'll be thrilled."

Dr. Grossman nodded sagely. "And you? How do you feel about this?"

"I'm a little scared. I thought I wouldn't get pregnant until at least this fall, that we'd have more time to get used to the idea of starting a family. I'm still relatively new to my team at work; how do I tell my boss?"

"All those feelings are totally legitimate, Grace, but right now, try not to focus on the big picture yet. I would suggest not telling your boss until you get closer to starting to show, which probably won't be until you're at least 16 weeks along. You are, unfortunately, learning the hard way the most important lesson of becoming a parent: children operate on their own schedule, and no one else's." Grace laughed heartily and visibly relaxed. "Go home. Share this news with your husband. Give it a few days to sink in. I want to see the both of you sometime early next week, so we can plan out your appointment schedule and address any more questions you have. Okay?"

"Okay. Thank you, Dr. Grossman." Grace stood up and got as far as the door before the doctor spoke up again.

"Grace? Congratulations."

* * *

Grace climbed into the driver's side of her SUV and sat for a few minutes, trying to process everything she'd learned in the last half-hour. She was going to have a baby. She and Wayne were going to be parents. She was confident in the knowledge that Wayne would be thrilled to hear this news; she just hoped that he would understand her apprehension. Taking a deep breath, she stuck her key into the ignition, started the car and headed for home.

* * *

Rigsby got home around 6:30 and was very surprised to find the house quiet and his wife curled up on the couch, apparently asleep. He headed upstairs quietly to change out of his suit into jeans and a t-shirt; he noticed that Grace hadn't started dinner, so he thought maybe they'd go out and grab a bite to eat instead. He eased down on the opposite end of the couch from Grace and started gently tickling her feet in an effort to rouse her. "Grace? Baby, are you okay?"

Grace blinked sleepily. "Huh? Oh, did I fall asleep?" She pulled herself up slowly to a sitting position and rubbed her face in an effort to wake herself up.

"Are you hungry? I thought maybe we could go out, get a bite to eat?"

"Oh, no, actually I'm not very hungry at all. Ugh, I can't believe I fell asleep. I meant to start dinner a half hour ago and I decided to just lay down for a few minutes."

Now Rigsby was getting worried. It wasn't like her to just randomly take a nap early in the evening; it messed with her sleep patterns and she got very grouchy when she didn't sleep well. He reached over to envelop her in a hug and pulled her into his lap. "Babe, is everything okay? You don't seem like yourself tonight, are you feeling all right?"

She reached up to stroke his cheek and smiled. "No, I'm not feeling all right, but everything is fine."

"Grace, that doesn't make any sense. What are you talking about?"

"I got a call from Dr. Grossman's office today."

Rigsby's brow furrowed in puzzlement. "I thought you just saw her last week, and she gave us the go-ahead to start trying next month. What happened? Is something wrong?"

"No, honey, nothing is wrong. You remember that conversation we had in Vegas, on our anniversary?" Rigsby nodded, still clearly confused. "Well, apparently that planning talk was totally unnecessary."

She watched as his confusion slowly melted into understanding and smiled. She squealed as he picked her up off the couch and started spinning her in circles, peppering kisses all over her face and neck.

"Honey, you're making me a little dizzy. Can you please put me down now?" He complied instantly, settling her carefully back on the couch and kneeling at her feet.

"I'm sorry, it's just … we're really going to have a baby?" She cupped his face in her hands and tilted his head up to look her in the eyes. The look of pure love, awe and joy in his eyes washed away any reservations she might have had at this news.

"We're really going to have a baby. Dr. Grossman said I'm about six weeks along, so we have to keep this our little secret for now. Do you think you can keep quiet about this for another six weeks or so?"

Instead of answering her directly, she could tell he was doing a little mental math. "Six weeks? That means … did we make our baby on our anniversary?"

"Sometime that weekend, probably." She squealed in surprise again as he plucked her off the couch, wrapped her legs around his waist and immediately headed for the stairs, kissing her as often as he could while still getting them around the house without bumping into walls.

"Wayne?" _Kiss._

"What?" _Kiss._

"Are you doing?" _Kiss._

He reached their bedroom and gently laid her out on the bed. "You need your rest. Don't worry about dinner; I'll figure something out. You just stay right here and sleep if you need to."

Grace smiled at his protectiveness and drew him down to her for another kiss, this one deeper and more passionate. "Honey, I'm _pregnant_, not an invalid." She surprised even herself at how easily the words came to her now, despite having known the information barely a few hours.

Rigsby sat down on the edge of the mattress and reached under her t-shirt to stroke her belly. No one but them knew about the tiny bundle of cells growing just under the surface, but soon enough a telltale bump would start to emerge and it would be their little secret no more. He leaned down to kiss her bellybutton and felt her hands start to run through his hair. "Hi, baby," he whispered to her tummy. "I'm your daddy. I just want you to know that your mommy and I love you already." He tilted his head to the side to rest his ear against her belly, knowing in his head that he wouldn't be able to hear anything, but wanting to do it anyway. He saw tears running down Grace's face, a great big smile cutting through the tracks on her cheeks.

"You're going to be the best father. You know she can't hear you though, right?"

He sat back up and gave her a slightly confused look in response. "She? You know something I don't?"

Grace shook her head. "Way too early for that. But it's easier than calling the baby 'it', right?"

He nodded. "Right. We need a code word for the baby. Something that will make sense only to us, and that we can talk about without anyone else figuring it out."

Grace pondered this suggestion for a minute. "Hmm. That's a good idea. How about Peanut?"

"Peanut?"

"That's about how big she is right now, the size of peanut that's out of its' shell."

"Peanut it is, then. Are you and Peanut still not hungry?"

"Actually," she said, smiling shyly, "do you think you could make a cheeseburger and chocolate shake run for us?"

Wayne grinned and squeezed her in a tight hug. "Done." He leaned down to place one final kiss on her belly. "Peanut, be good to your mommy until I get back, okay?"

Grace laughed at his eager acceptance of their nickname for the baby. She reached up for one last kiss before letting him go to pick up dinner.

"I love you," they said to each other in unison.

* * *

A/N, part deux: Okay people, really. I don't normally plead for reviews, but I give you the sappiest, most sugary, fluffiest chapter I could come up with (at least until we get around to the baby actually being born, that one is turning out to be a little sappier) and I get ONE REVIEW for this chapter? I could make life more angsty for these two if you'd rather .......


	3. Sea Change, part one

A/N: Okay people, seriously? Three chapters and only six reviews?! I really don't like begging for reviews, but I know you folks are out there reading, and if I'm not getting feedback, I feel like I'm talking to thin air, here. That green button is very easy to click, I promise. All feedback is welcome.

* * *

Rigsby was just wrapping up a particularly tedious stack of paperwork and preparing to shut down for the night and head home when Lisbon stealthily approached his desk. She knocked on the tabletop three times to get his attention, so focused was he on getting the work done so he could go home. He'd already had to call Grace once and let her know that he wouldn't be home in time for dinner; she'd sighed, told him she understood that he needed to get the paperwork done before the weekend, and let him know that she'd leave a plate for him when he got home. Lisbon interrupting his work was never a good sign.

"Wayne? Earth to Wayne!" she said, waving her hand between his face and the computer screen.

"What? Oh, sorry boss, I'm just trying to get all this paperwork wrapped up before heading out for the weekend. What can I do for you?"

Lisbon sighed. She considered Wayne and Grace good friends, as well as valued colleagues, and she didn't want to keep Wayne away from home any later than he already was, but this conversation needed to take place. "I need to see you in my office before you leave. I know that you want to get home to Grace, and I'll try to keep it brief, but this is important."

Rigsby inhaled nervously. Lisbon never called him into her office unless it was extra important. "Sure, boss, can you give me five minutes to wrap this up?"

"Not a problem, I'll be here."

Five minutes later, Rigsby signed off on the last of his reports, tucked them into their respective case files, and shut down his computer. He was thankful that both Cho and Jane were already gone for the weekend, because he was quite certain that Cho would have been giving him shit for the last five minutes about his constant nervous foot-tapping. He pushed his chair back from his desk, and practiced the yoga breathing Grace had been trying to teach him. He must have been getting better at it, because he actually found it quite calming. Picking up the stack of files, he walked over to Lisbon's door and tapped twice.

"Come on in, Rigsby!" She yelled through the glass.

He walked in hesitantly and set the files down on the edge of her desk.

"Have a seat, Wayne," she instructed, gesturing to the couch against the wall. Noting his uneasy posture, she smiled. "Relax, you're not being called on the carpet for anything. Quite the opposite, actually." He settled back into the soft leather cushions, and she continued. "For the time being, this conversation must remain between the two of us. No discussing it with either Cho or Jane. What I am about to tell you will affect Grace, so you can talk it over with her, but that's it. Understood?"

Rigsby nodded uncertainly, now more confused than ever.

"I assume you've heard the rumors circulating around the building, about Minelli taking retirement?Well, they're not rumors. Minelli is retiring, effective at the end of the year."

Rigsby leaned forward onto his knees, as if he hadn't heard her correctly. "Seriously? Minelli is retiring in a month?"

"Seriously. This is actually something he's been considering for quite some time. The only reason it's gotten out in the last few weeks is that his succession plan is finally falling into place." She saw understanding start to dawn on his face, and smiled.

"Are you going to take over his role, boss?"

She leaned back into her desk chair, feeling more confident that she was making the right decision by telling him all this now. "Yes, Minelli wants me to take over his position. I'm not sure I'm going to be nearly as good as he was at dealing with the more political aspects of his job, but this is a move I really can't pass up."

Rigsby whistled sharply and looked at his boss in awe. "Wow. That's …. congratulations, boss. That's fantastic. Who's going to take over Serious Crimes?"

"That is where you come in. Minelli has given me leeway to reorganize the team as I see fit, so I am expanding it into two teams. I want to promote both you and Cho to Senior Agents, and you will both have three agents under your supervision. I have a pool of about 20 candidates who I think would be good fits for this group; if you and Cho both accept the promotions, I want the two of you to work together to evaluate the candidate pool and decide who you'd like to hire. The whole point of creating a second team within the Serious Crimes group is to keep each of your teams from getting too overwhelmed with case loads, but I expect total cooperation from the both of you."

"What about Jane?"

"I'm glad you asked. Since he is now consulting part-time with the FBI office in San Francisco, we have to reconsider how we utilize him as a resource. I'm not going to assign him permanently to either of your teams; he'll work with each of you on a case-by-case basis, reporting directly to me. Frankly, I didn't think it would be fair to stick either of you with him full-time; that would be cruel and unusual punishment."

Rigsby laughed so hard he accidentally banged his head on the window behind the couch. "I appreciate that, boss; I'm not sure I could handle Jane on my own." He reached back to rub the sore spot on his head before continuing. "I'm guessing Cho already knows about this?"

"Yes, we've already had this conversation. Jane is aware as well."

"This is a really big step, boss, and it's a lot to take in. You're sure it's okay for me to discuss this with Grace?"

"Yes. Even though this move doesn't directly impact her group, since I won't be overseeing them, it affects her anyway. It's not fair of me to ask you to make this decision on your own. Plus, I trust Grace's ability to keep this quiet until it becomes public knowledge."

"And when, exactly, is that going to be, boss? How long do I have to work this out with her?"

"Minelli is going to make the formal announcement at the Bureau's Christmas party, in two weeks. However, I can only give you until next Friday, in case I need to make alternate arrangements. I think you're ready for this, Wayne, but I don't want you to take this promotion if you are not both 100% comfortable with it."

"If it were just up to me, boss, I'd say yes before I walked out this door. But I don't have just myself to worry about now. Grace and the baby are everything to me, and if she's not on board, then I can't accept this move."

Lisbon nodded. "I understand, Wayne. Go home and talk it over with her. And remind her that she needs to be ready by noon sharp for our shopping trip tomorrow."

Rigsby stood up to leave, and smiled broadly. "She's looking forward to it. She's been so focused on getting the nursery ready, and putting together the baby registry, that she needs some time to do grown-up stuff."

Lisbon nodded knowingly. "See you Monday, Wayne."

Rigsby walked slowly back to his desk, gathering his coat, keys and messenger bag and heading downstairs to his car as if he were on autopilot. Climbing into the driver's seat, he gripped the steering wheel as if his life depended on it while processing his conversation with Lisbon. The opportunity to lead his own team was a big deal. He'd be one of the youngest Senior Agents in the Bureau. If he took this promotion, he could basically write his own ticket, should he decide to eventually make the move to a Federal agency. He couldn't help feel a sense if immense pride that Teresa Lisbon, one of the most respected agents in the CBI, thought he was ready for this kind of responsibility.

He just hoped Grace would be as proud of him.


	4. Sea Change, part two

A/N: Well, I was going to make this section of Wayne and Grace's story a two-parter, but it's actually working better as a three-act piece. So you have Wayne and Lisbon in the previous chapter, Wayne and Grace in this chapter, and Lisbon will get her say again next chapter. Though if you have read _His Girls_, you already have an idea of what happens.

Remember: clicking that nice green button and leaving a review means happier authors. Really. It's been scientifically proven.

* * *

Rigsby arrived home about 20 minutes later, pulling into the driveway and taking a deep breath before putting the car in park and heading inside. He saw a plate of pasta, meat sauce and garlic bread sitting in the microwave. After warming up his dinner, he sat down quietly at the table and contemplated the best way to break this news to Grace. The idea of getting to lead his own team was exciting and unnerving all at the same time; he had no clue what her reaction was going to be.

As he climbed the stairs to their bedroom, he heard her rattling around in the extra room that they were in the process of converting to a nursery. She was laying down painter's tape around the edges of the recently-installed trim that divided the walls. Wayne's primary task for the weekend was to make sure that the nursery was totally painted by Sunday. He poked his head in the door and just watched her work for a minute. She marked off her pieces of tape carefully and deliberately, prepping the walls with her usual attention to detail. Every once in a while, she would pause to rub her back, then move her hands to stroke her belly, trying to softly admonish Peanut to stop kicking her quite so often. Much to her chagrin, the baby almost never listened to her. A big smile bloomed on her face as she caught him out of the corner of her eye.

She looked down at her belly. "Hey, Peanut, Daddy's home," looking back up, she waved him to come inside. "Hi, honey. Did you already eat?"

He nodded. "Just got home a little bit ago. I had a last-minute meeting with Lisbon, that's why I'm so late. I'm gonna change clothes, I'll be right back."

Grace turned back to her work, pressing down the last few inches of tape, then stepping back to survey her handiwork. Satisfied that the tape would do the job, she moved to sit down on the couch, but instead found herself held in place as her husband's arms wrapped around her belly, just barely making it all the way around.

Wayne placed a tender kiss on Grace's neck, just under her ear. "She's getting so big," he observed. Grace would never tire of the sense of wonder and awe in his voice every time he talked about their impending new arrival. She moved his hand a little further down on her left side, so he could feel the baby moving.

"Tell me about it. I'm gonna lose sight of my feet fairly soon, here. She's been wiggly all afternoon, too."

Wayne moved around to kneel in front of his wife, and placed a gentle kiss just below her bellybutton. "Peanut, I need you to do me a favor. Mommy and I have to talk here, so do you think you could stop kicking her for a few minutes?"

To Grace's surprise, the baby stilled instantly. "I don't know how you do that," she said incredulously.

Wayne looked up and winked. "She's a daddy's girl already." He stood up, taking her hands and leading her over to the couch they'd set up in the center of the room.

"So what was this meeting you had with Lisbon all about?"

Wayne sighed. Leave it to Grace to cut right to the chase. "You've heard the rumors about Minelli retiring, right?"

"Yeah, they've made it to our part of the building. I didn't really give them that much thought, since he doesn't oversee our group."

"Well, the rumors aren't going to be rumors much longer. He's officially leaving at the end of the year, and the announcement is going to go out at the Bureau's Christmas party."

"I don't understand, how does this affect us, exactly?"

Wayne paused and took a deep breath, knowing that she would put two and two together at this bit of information. "Lisbon is taking over Minelli's job."

Grace covered her mouth with her hands as she processed his statement. "Lisbon wants to make you a Senior Agent, doesn't she?"

"Me and Cho both, actually. She wants to expand the unit into two teams. We would each be supervising a team of three."

"What did you tell her?" Her voice was becoming slightly panicky.

"I told her that if it were just my decision, I'd have said yes immediately. But this isn't just about me; it's about the three of us, and if you weren't okay with it, that I would decline the promotion."

Grace leapt across the couch – at least, as well as she was able to, given that she had to maneuver around the baby – and enveloped him in a grateful hug. "Was she okay with that?"

"I think she expected it. You're the only one I'm allowed to talk to about this, until it becomes official. We don't have much time, though. Lisbon only gave me until next Friday to give her an answer."

Grace reached up to stroke his cheeks as tears started streaking down her face. "Wayne, I am so proud of you. The fact that Lisbon thinks you're ready for this step is an amazing thing." He saw hesitation set in her shoulders and he knew she was about to lower the boom.

"What's wrong, Grace?" he asked as he wiped her tears dry with his thumbs.

"It's just that … if you're leading your own team, you're going to be in the line of fire even more than you are already. I don't know what I would do if something happened to you." The waterworks started back up again in earnest, and Rigsby drew her into his chest and just held her, stroking her hair, rubbing her back and letting the tears flow until she calmed down.

"Grace, please look at me." She pulled her head back from its spot on his shoulder, wiped her eyes dry and stared him straight in the face. "I promise you, I would **never** do anything to put myself in danger unnecessarily. You and the baby are everything to me. We knew when we got married that this would be a possibility some time down the road. I know it happened a lot sooner than we planned; that seems to be the story of our lives this year, doesn't it?" Grace smiled and they both laughed.

"I guess it's becoming a trend. I know that you can take care of yourself out in the field; I don't want you to think for one second that I don't fully trust your abilities and experience. It's just … this is all a lot to take in."

Rigsby laughed ruefully. "Yeah, the timing could have been better, that's for sure. I don't think it's a good idea to make a decision about this tonight, okay?" Grace nodded in agreement. Rigsby stood up and reached for Grace's hands to help tug her up off the couch, pulling her into a tight hug. "By the way, Lisbon asked me to remind you that you need to be ready to go by noon sharp for your shopping trip tomorrow."

Grace smiled broadly. "I know. She's taking me to have a pedicure, then we're going shopping for something to wear to the Christmas party. I'm sure we'll talk about all this at some point, too."

"I think that might be a good idea. Are you okay with us revisiting this discussion on Sunday?"

She leaned up to peck him on the lips. "Yes, we can talk about it again on Sunday. Right now, though, it's time for bed."


	5. Sea Change, part three

Lisbon knocked on Wayne and Grace's front door promptly at noon. They had an appointment for pedicures at 12:30 at the White Orchids Salon in midtown, and she wanted to make sure they had plenty of time to find a parking spot. The door flew open and Grace reached out to hug her former boss.

"Hey, boss!"

Lisbon leaned over to reciprocate, admonishing Grace teasingly. "Grace, I'm not your boss anymore. It's Teresa, remember?"

Grace smiled shyly. Even after more than a year, she still wasn't quite used to thinking of her former supervisor as a friend, in addition to being a colleague. "Okay. I need to head upstairs real quick, let Wayne know that we're headed out. Do you want to see the nursery?"

Lisbon nodded and motioned for Grace to lead the way. She followed as Grace led her to a small room off the top of the staircase. It was empty except for a large overstuffed couch situated in the middle of the room and painting supplies strewn everywhere. Rigsby was in the middle of painting the top half of the walls a very pale pink; the bottom half was already coated in a dark purple.

"It looks beautiful, Grace, but where's the rest of the furniture?" she inquired.

"We're ordering most of it next week. The crib and the changing table are going to be Christmas gifts from my parents. We're also buying a bookcase and a glider." Van Pelt strode across the room to attract her husband's attention; he'd been listening to his iPod while painting and hadn't realized they were in the room. Reaching up to pry one earbud out of his ear, she stretched onto her toes to give him a quick peck on the cheek. "Hey, honey, we're headed out. Depending on how long it takes me to find a dress, it may be close to 5 before we get back. Think you'll have all the painting done by then?"

Rigsby grinned and gave Lisbon a sly wink. "We'll see how long it takes the top half to dry. I think I may give it a second coat." He set his painting tools down on the stepladder, and leaned over to kiss his wife's belly. "Peanut, behave yourself for mommy and Aunt Teresa, okay?"

Lisbon leaned against the doorframe, admiring the obvious love, affection and trust that her two former agents had developed. She'd be lying if she said she didn't envy them, just a little. A relationship like theirs was hard to cultivate in their line of work, much less make it work as long as they had already. In the back of her mind, she wondered briefly if the offer she'd made Wayne on Friday was what was best for them. Her rational side took over, reminding her that what's done was done. She shook her head to break out of her reverie.

"Grace? We need to get going."

* * *

Twenty minutes later, they were sitting side-by-side in the salon, feet immersed in warm water mixed with bath salts. Being seven months pregnant, the technicians adjusted Grace's chair to allow her to recline more comfortably. Lisbon saw an expression of bliss cross her face, and started to laugh. "Grace, I'm not going to have to be constantly talking here to keep you awake, am I?"

Van Pelt smirked. "No, although I usually do take a nap around this time on Saturdays. I can't believe I let you talk me into getting a pedicure. I can barely see my feet on a daily basis anyway!"

"Just because you're pregnant, doesn't mean you shouldn't be doing nice things for yourself, Grace." Lisbon saw several of the salon's staffers nodding in agreement. "Besides, doesn't Wayne give you a foot rub every day? Think of this as a gift for him."

"Good point. This does feel really good, too. Especially the massage on my lower back." Grace reached up to lovingly stroke her stomach.

"The baby's moving around a lot?"

"It feels like she's constantly moving. She calms down enough to let me sleep at night usually, and for some reason, when Wayne talks to her, she stills. I guess he's right; she's a daddy's girl already."

"She?!" Lisbon asked in surprise; Wayne and Grace had been very careful not to reveal the baby's gender to anyone who inquired, but she assumed that they knew and wanted to keep it a secret.

Grace leaned back and closed her eyes in mild annoyance that she'd let that information slip. "Yes. We've known for about two months now that we're having a girl. Please promise that you won't let on that I told you?"

"I promise. Have you decided on a name yet?"

"We've narrowed it down to a couple of options. Part of me wants to have a decision before she's born, but part of me wants to meet her first, you know?"

"I get it. I hate to break this to you, but my sister-in-law had the same problem when she was pregnant with my youngest nephew. Moving around all the time, and hasn't stopped since she gave birth. Which, by the way, was four years ago."

Grace laughed. "You're right, that was terribly unhelpful." She felt the nail tech patting her feet dry and handed over the bottle of red polish she'd selected for her toes. Ten minutes later, her toes were a beautiful shade of deep red, and she slipped into a pair of flip-flops as she carefully stood up out of the chair and settled down near the front desk, feet sitting underneath a UV light that would help the polish dry faster. Lisbon shuffled over a few minutes later, having paid for their pedicures. She reached down and helped her friend out of the chair.

"C'mon, let's find you something to wear to the Christmas party."

* * *

More than two hours later, Lisbon and Van Pelt were seated a table outside a downtown Starbucks, enjoying hot chocolate and croissants at Lisbon's insistence.

"Grace, eat. I was specifically instructed by your husband that you were to go no more than three hours without food."

Van Pelt reached for another croissant, her third of the afternoon. "If you insist."

Lisbon sat back and sipped her beverage, waiting for her friend to finish chewing her croissant before bringing up what had been, to that point, a rather quiet elephant in the room.

"I noticed you haven't asked me about the promotion I offered Wayne on Friday."

Van Pelt sat up a little straighter and sighed. "I figured it would come up eventually."

"How do you feel about all this, Grace? Wayne was very clear last night that he would not accept this position if you weren't 100% supportive."

"I know. He told me exactly what you two discussed. It's just … it's not that I don't trust Wayne to take care of himself out in the field. I know what he's capable of. He knows that I want him to be careful. But, having him out there with untrained agents … I just don't know."

Lisbon saw that Grace was near tears and realized that she was going to have to let her in on motivations that she'd hoped to keep quiet. "Grace, if it helps at all, that's part of the reason I want Wayne and Cho to be leading teams together. That way, we can divide the work up more equitably and I can call in my second team for backup when necessary. You have confidence in Cho, right?"

Grace sniffled, and reached into her purse for some tissues. "Absolutely."

"I also want to make sure that my teams split up the out-of-town cases equally, too. I don't want any of my subordinates to feel like this job is preventing them from having family time. Work-life balance is important to me, and it should be important to the Bureau, too."

"Thanks, boss," Grace replied as she blew her nose.

"Grace, I am going to tell you something that I did not discuss with Wayne. This is another reason I offered him the position, and if I am being 100% truthful, it is the main reason I did so. I need you to promise me that you will not discuss this with him, okay?" Van Pelt nodded, uncertainly. Lisbon continued. "I have been receiving inquiries from other departments within the Bureau about both Wayne and Cho. Cho has never indicated any interest whatsoever in working with any other department than Serious Crimes, and he's made that clear through unofficial channels. I've had a tougher time keeping Wayne away from other departments … specifically, the Arson/Bomb Squad. They asked me to transfer him four months ago; they wanted him to lead his own team. At the time, you hadn't announced your pregnancy yet, but Minelli and I were already working on his retirement and succession plan. Every time I have asked Wayne about his career plans, he has said that he'd go where he had the best chance for advancement, but that if he had his preference, he wanted to remain with Serious Crimes. Minelli and I have been working very hard behind the scenes to help make that happen. If Wayne turns this offer down, I no longer have any leverage to keep Arson from trying to poach him, and if he turns that down, it's not going to reflect well on him, no matter how good his reasons are."

At the mention of the Arson/Bomb Squad, Grace's face went completely pale. "Arson? But … you won't oversee that group."

"That's exactly why I want to keep him with us, Grace. You three have become like extended family to me. If Wayne moves to Arson, I can't keep an eye on him. And I don't think I have to remind you that all the Kevlar in the world won't protect him from an explosive device."

The two women sat in a rather uncomfortable silence for a few minutes. Finally, Grace drew in a deep breath and spoke. "I appreciate you telling me all this, Teresa. Wayne and I are going to have to talk about this some more, but I promise he'll have an answer for you by Friday."

"That's all I can ask for from both of you. If it helps at all, Grace, Wayne has become a much more cautious and conscientious agent since the two of you got married."

"It helps a lot, actually." Grace awkwardly stood up to gather their cups and napkins and tossed them to the trash. They drove back to the house in silence.

* * *

_Sunday evening_

Grace and Wayne more or less avoided the topic of the promotion the rest of the day Saturday, and all day Sunday, preferring instead to focus their energy on finishing the painting project and hanging pictures in the nursery. However, as they were getting ready for bed, Rigsby acknowledged to himself that they could avoid it no longer. As Grace settled onto her side, trying to find a comfortable position to sleep in, Rigsby reached across the bed to feel the baby moving. It had become something of a ritual for them every night.

"Grace, I know this is probably the last thing you want to be talking about before bed, but I need to give Lisbon an answer about the promotion sooner rather than later."

She covered his hand on her belly with her own and reached up with her free hand to draw his head down to hers, giving him a comforting kiss. "I know. Lisbon and I had a good talk yesterday. She wants what's best for you, personally and professionally. We really lucked out in getting her for a boss. I trust her judgment, and I trust you, so if this promotion is what you really want, I want you to take it."

Rigsby eased back down into his pillow, dragging Grace across the bed into as a grateful a hug as he could physically give her. "Are you sure about this, baby?"

"A hundred percent."

"Grace, I don't know what exactly I did to deserve you, but I am thankful every day that you agreed to marry me. I love you so much." Rigsby was on the verge of tears, a reaction no one saw from him very often.

Grace pulled him onto his side and leaned up for another kiss, pressing up against him as best she could. "I love you too." Just then, they both felt the baby kick. "We love you too, Peanut."

Rigsby settled down further into the mattress and started rubbing his hand from side to side across Grace's belly. "You know, we really ought to settle on a name for her."

"Are you sure you like Lucy? You are aware that my parents almost named me that, right?"

"I know, but it's less of a joke since her last name is going to be Rigsby. Plus, it just feels right. That undercover op in Vegas is where this all started; what better way to honor that all the time?"

Grace smiled. Her husband's sentimentality was something he rarely shared with anyone but her. "Okay, but if that's the route we go, then we have to reference Charlie in some way. Maybe Charlotte?"

"Lucy Charlotte Rigsby. I like it." The baby kicked again. "Apparently she does too. Go to sleep now, Lucy Charlotte."

The three of them soon fell into a deep, contented sleep.


	6. Meet the Parents

A/N: I'm backtracking more than just a little bit here, to give you all a look into Wayne's first meeting with Grace's parents, way before they got married. This is the first part of what's probably going to be a three-act section of their story, and takes place seven months after the events of _Conventioneers_.

* * *

Van Pelt stood anxiously in the Baggage Claim area of Terminal A at Sacramento International Airport, checking the computer screens every 30 seconds for updated information on the status of Flight 3240 from Kansas City. She started pacing around the baggage carousels to pass the time, and was so distracted that she nearly walked straight into the tall and somewhat imposing figure that was her father.

"Sweetheart, were you going to stop and say hello to your old man?" he asked with a big grin on his face.

She reached up to wrap her arms tightly around his neck. "Hi, daddy!" Her father picked her up slightly off the floor and spun her around quickly before setting her back onto her feet. Grace looked around the baggage area and saw no sign of her mother. "Hang on, where's mom?"

"She's in the ladies room. It's been a long day and our stopover in Denver wasn't very long, so she wanted to freshen up. In the meantime, I have been tasked with retrieving our bags, which I see rolling on the carousel as we speak." Rich Van Pelt leaned down to give his only daughter a quick peck on the cheek, and worked his way through the crowd surrounding the carousel to claim the bags.

Grace heard her name being called and spun around to see her mother approaching. She waved to get her attention. "Mom, we're over here!"

Pam Van Pelt made a beeline for her daughter, who was soon joined by her dad. "Do you guys have everything?" Both parents nodded. "Okay, well, it's about 6:30, you must be hungry, do you want to get something to eat?"

Pam Van Pelt reached over to hug her daughter, giving her the typical _I'm-your-mother-and-I-haven't-seen-you-in-forever_ onceover before taking her rolling suitcase from her husband. "Why don't we take our things to your apartment and get settled in first, then we can decide on dinner?"

Grace nodded in agreement and started digging around in her purse for her keys and parking ticket. "That sounds like a good plan. My car is in the garage; it should take us only a half-hour or so to get home." She and her mother linked arms and set off in the direction of the parking garage.

"So, Grace, tell us all about this nice young man of yours we're supposed to meet tomorrow …."

* * *

True to form, Grace pulled into her parking spot in front of her building exactly thirty minutes later. Her dad unloaded the bags from the trunk of her SUV and followed his two favorite women up the stairs to Grace's second-floor apartment. As she led them through the door, he noticed her nervously flitting about in her living room, straightening pictures, fluffing pillows and generally trying to make sure everything in her already-tidy living space was perfect for her parents. It was a trait she'd picked up from her mother.

"Grace, honey, relax. You have a lovely little apartment. Why don't you show me where your mom and I are going to sleep? You have a guest bedroom, right?"

Grace straightened and beckoned for her dad to follow her. "First room on the left. Only one bathroom though, so you're stuck sharing with mom and me again."

Rich Van Pelt grinned broadly. "I think I'll manage." He set the bags down just inside the doorway of the guest bedroom and stepped back to admire his daughter's home. She favored mostly neutral color palettes – creams and browns with the occasional splashes of color in a throw pillow or in the many photo frames lining the walls. He recognized a few photos that had once adorned the walls of her dorm room in college; pictures of old friends and favorite haunts from home. The unfamiliar ones were clearly newer, images of places she'd visited since moving to the west coast. Conspicuously absent were any photos of her new beau. He decided to file that information away for further explanation later.

In the meantime, Pam Van Pelt had been going through her daughter's kitchen, checking to ensure that she was well-equipped for dinner the next day and attempting to determine whether they would need to make a grocery run before the night was over. She noticed a checklist stuck to the fridge, denoting what each guest was expected to bring the following day, and smiled. Grace got her organizational skills from her dad. She frowned, however, when she could find no evidence of a turkey anywhere in the fridge or freezer. A commotion from Grace's bathroom shook her out of her reverie. She raced to the bathroom and found her daughter dumping out a large pickle bucket full of water. _That's my girl_, she thought, _thawing her turkey in the bathroom, just like her dad and I used to do when she was little before we moved into the bigger house. _

"Grace, do you need an extra pair of hands?"

She looked up and smiled softly at her mom, brushing her hair out of her face with her forearm. "Thanks, mom, but I think I got it. I think the turkey only needs to soak for a couple more hours and it should be all thawed out." She reached for the faucet and started re-filling the bucket.

Pam reached over and turned off the water flow as soon as the bucket was full. "Come on, sweetie, let's go get some dinner. How does pizza sound?"

* * *

The three Van Pelts were settled around their table at Round Table Pizza, sharing a pitcher of soda and waiting for their large Hawaiian pizza to arrive, when Grace's dad decided it was time to broach the subject of his daughter's mysterious boyfriend.

"So, Grace, I noticed that you haven't mentioned this new man in your life. Were you going to tell us about him, or were you just going to wait until he comes over for dinner tomorrow?" His wife kicked him quite sharply under the table, connecting soundly with his shin. "Ow!"

"Richard Van Pelt, that is no way to bring up this subject!"

Grace had to laugh at her parents' bickering. She'd expected her mother to be the one pressing the issue about Wayne, not her dad, but she appreciated her father's directness on the topic. Sneaking around at work was hard enough; hiding from her parents had been torture. She only hoped they would be understanding.

"Mom, it's okay, really. You guys should know a little bit about everyone who's coming over tomorrow anyway, including Wayne. It's just going to be us, and the rest of my team. We're on call this weekend, so we can't leave town. I offered to have everyone over for dinner before you two decided to come out to visit, and they're all very excited to meet you."

The Van Pelts exchanged a knowing look over their daughter's head. She was fibbing to make them feel better.

"So, your boss is Teresa, right?" Pam inquired.

"She goes by Lisbon in the office, but yes, her given name is Teresa. She's very no-nonsense; I think you'll like her a lot, dad. She has three younger brothers, all of whom live on the east coast. She's originally from Chicago and she's a Bears fan."

"I like her already," Rich replied with a grin.

Grace continued. "Kimball Cho is the most senior agent beside Lisbon. He's kind of a tough nut to crack – very much the strong and silent type. He's always got a book on him, for long stakeouts, though, so you might be able to get him to open up about what he's reading, mom." Pam Van Pelt smiled brightly; she was a voracious reader who hosted regular book club meetings at their house.

"Patrick Jane is our consultant. Jane is …." she paused, trying collect her thoughts and choose her words carefully, "Jane is an _interesting_ character."

Pam knew that tone in her daughter's voice. It indicated that there was more to the statement than she truly wanted to reveal. "Interesting how, sweetheart?"

Grace leaned back into her chair and took in a deep breath, debating internally whether to go for broke and tell her parents Jane's whole story, minus the more gory details, or skim over it. In the end, she decided honesty was the best policy. She adopted a very quiet voice, so as not to attract attention of other groups sitting nearby.

"Jane worked for many years down in the L.A. area has a psychic counselor, and part-time consultant to law enforcement agencies. He was very well-known in Southern California and make a very good living. Unfortunately, he also attracted the attention of a serial killer, who murdered his wife and daughter. Their deaths hit him very hard, and he was forced to admit that his psychic abilities were a fraud. The CBI took over the investigation of all the cases a few years ago, and he's been working with us ever since."

Her parents' reactions to this news were identical, and exactly what she expected: a mixture of horror, pity and a tiny bit of revulsion. She opted to continue and plow through her impressions of Jane, just to get it over with. "Jane probably won't bring up either his wife or daughter at dinner tomorrow, but he does still wear his wedding ring, so I thought it was important that you know the whole story, lest we end up in a very awkward conversation. I should also warn you that Jane is very upfront about his lack of spiritual beliefs and can be very tactless when he wants to be." She turned and addressed her father directly. "Dad, I would really appreciate it if you would try not to engage him in any debates about faith."

Rich Van Pelt wrung his hands around his napkin a few times. As a deacon at the Episcopal Church he'd attended since childhood, purposely not discussing his faith was a bit anathema to his nature. But he'd also done some research on this Patrick Jane person before traveling to Sacramento, and based on the information he'd been able to find, he decided that for his daughter's sake, he would keep quiet. He could do that for a few hours. "Absolutely, Grace. We don't want to make this weekend any more stressful for you than necessary."

Just then, they were interrupted by their server, who arrived with three plates, their pizza, and a refilled pitcher of soda. They dug in to dinner and the conversation lagged for a few minutes. Pam Van Pelt was the one to break it.

"So, Grace, the only person you haven't told us about is Wayne. He's the one you've been seeing for a little while now, is that right?" she inquired, gently prodding her daughter to 'fess up to the full extent of their relationship, which she'd been very vague about in her phone calls home.

Grace blushed deeply, and made a very good show of carefully chewing and swallowing her bite of pizza before responding to her mother. "Yes, mom, we've been together several months now."

"But he's a member of your team at work, too, is that right?"

Grace saw the very suspicious look on her mother's face and knew that both of her parents assumed that her relationship with Wayne was, strictly speaking, out-of-bounds. Again, she decided to face the topic head-on. "Yes, mom, we work together. And yes, I know that both of you are wondering if that is allowed, and the answer to that is no. If we were in different departments, it wouldn't be an issue, but since we are on the same team, we are, at best, skirting the rules. If either of us did anything at work that would give our relationship away, Lisbon would be forced to either transfer or fire one of us. We are always very discreet, and Wayne has his own apartment, so for now, it isn't a problem."

"But?" her dad chimed in.

"But …. we're getting to the point that we've started to talk about a long-term future together. That can't happen while we're both on the same team, but we can't agree on who ends up making the move. It's harder than I thought it would be, Dad." Grace pushed away the uneaten remainder of her pizza, wiping away at the tears that were threatening to escape her eyes.

Pam Van Pelt reached over and clasped her daughter's free hand comfortingly. "Honey, is he worth it? All the discretion, the stress of worrying about whether you'll get caught? Maybe the best thing would be to go your separate ways."

Grace shook her head vehemently. "I love him, Mom. He's sweet, and considerate, a lot smarter than anyone gives him credit for, a good agent and a good man. Most importantly, he loves me too. I can't imagine my life without him."

"Is he cute?" Pam asked teasingly.

Grace laughed uncontrollably. "Yes, mom, he's very handsome. He's six-four, has the most beautiful hazel eyes and a great smile. He'd also put some of Dad's kids to shame with how fit he is." Grace winked mischievously at her father, who chuckled in response.

Rich Van Pelt checked his watch and realized it was already close to 10PM. He waved over their server and requested the check and a box for the leftovers. With dinner paid for, he stood and pulled his wife and daughter up from their respective seats. "Come on, Van Pelts, it's time to head home. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow."


	7. The Family You Choose

Author's note: this is part two of the Van Pelts' visit to Sacramento, and just to clear up any potential confusion, this series of chapters is occurring after the events of _Conventioneers_, before Wayne and Grace got married. This Thanksgiving is basically Thanksgiving of this year. I'll try to be more clear about where we are in the timeline in future chapters! - aml

* * *

Rich Van Pelt woke up the next morning promptly at 6:30 without the assistance of an alarm clock. Even on vacation, old habits were difficult to break. Seeing that the other half of the bed in his daughter's guest room was empty, he guessed that his wife was already awake, likely puttering around in the kitchen. He tugged on sweats, his running shoes and a windbreaker, deciding to continue with his normal morning routine of a jog before breakfast. As he ambled into the kitchen, he realized that he smelled cinnamon rolls, and found his wife behind the counter, covered in flour.

"Honey, are you making cinnamon rolls from scratch?" he asked as he wiped a spot of flour off her face.

Pam Van Pelt's expression was a little sheepish, but she smiled anyway. "I checked last night to make sure Grace had all the ingredients; I thought it would be a nice treat for her. We do this every year at home, might as well bring a tradition or two out to California with us, right?"

"Are you going to write down the recipe so Grace can make them herself eventually?"

Pam reached a flour-covered hand across the counter and gingerly plucked a 5"x7" card off the surface. "Got it right here."

"You spoil her, you know."

Pam huffed loudly, snorting flour all over the counter. "Please. I'm not the one who caved in after only two days of whining and allowed her to come to work with me every day the summer she turned five."

Rich chuckled heartily at the memory of his five-year-old daughter, red pigtails trailing behind her as she ran around the high school track during two-a-day practices in the weeks before school started.

"She's not our little girl anymore, Rich. Pretty soon she's going to have a family of her own, and start her own traditions. I just want to do this for her one more time."

"I know, honey." Rich leaned over to peck his wife on the cheek. "I'm going to head out for a quick run, I'll try to be back before breakfast. Is there anything you or Grace will need me to do today?"

Pam paused for a moment, mentally running through her checklist of to-dos. "Grace and I will deal with the turkey; her friends are bringing most of the side dishes, but we'll be cooking mashed potatoes too. I guess the three things we'll need you to do are set the table, carve the bird, and try not to scare the hell out of this young man she's been seeing."

"I can handle items one and two; I make no promises about number three."

She faked as though she was about to toss a handful of flour in his general direction. "Get, you, before I corral you into actually helping me and you get yourself into further trouble."

* * *

Ninety minutes later, he returned from a satisfying run in the brisk late-fall weather to find his wife and daughter seated at the dining table, munching on freshly baked cinnamon rolls, a cup of coffee for Pam, hot chocolate for Grace. He plucked a gooey pastry off the cookie sheet on the counter, plopped it on a plate and poured himself a cup of coffee. He leaned down to kiss both his wife and daughter on the cheek before settling at the head of the table.

"How was your run, Dad?" Grace queried between sips of hot chocolate.

"Very good, thanks for asking, sweetheart. Your neighborhood is really lovely. Lots of folks out and about already this morning, which was interesting. It was kind of nice to see people instead of farm equipment and livestock. A change of pace."

Grace hid her smirk behind her mug. "You didn't have any trouble finding your way back?"

"Nope. Just ran NASCAR-style; keep turning left and eventually you'll get right back to where you started," he replied with a wink. All three Van Pelts laughed heartily; Grace laughed so hard that she almost choked on a bite of cinnamon roll, causing her mother to pat her on the back to make sure she was okay. Grace chugged half her mug of hot chocolate to wash it down.

"Honey, what time is everyone supposed to get here?"

"I told everyone that dinner would be ready by about one, so if I know this group, that means Wayne will get here around noon, Lisbon and Cho will arrive by 12:30, and we'll be lucky if Jane shows up before 1:30. Fortunately, he's bringing dessert, so that won't be a problem. I explicitly told him on Tuesday that if dinner is ready but he's not here, we're eating without him."

Pam and Rich shared a surprised look at their daughter's vehemence. "Okay, sweetheart, it's almost nine. The turkey is in the oven, the potatoes are all washed and ready to be peeled and the dishes are ready to go, so why don't you go ahead and hop in the shower? Dad and I will clean up in here and then I think I'm going to lay down for a little bit before it's time to finish putting dinner together."

Grace nodded, excusing herself from the table and heading to her bedroom. As soon as the water started running, the Van Pelts started clearing away the dishes and cleaning up the kitchen. They split up the duties the same way they always did at home, with Pam doing the washing and Rich doing the drying. They worked in the kind of easy silence that couples who had been together as long as they had accepted naturally, before Rich broke their unspoken agreement not to discuss the 800-pound gorilla in the room.

"Did you and Grace have a chance to talk more about this young man she's seeing?"

Pam sighed and set down the cookie sheet she was rinsing. "We talked a little. She's being very guarded about him, and I'm not entirely sure why. I don't think it has anything to do with the fact that their relationship is against the rules. There's something going on there that she's not entirely comfortable telling us. From what she has told me, he seems like a fine young man; he graduated from UCLA, and his area of expertise is arson. He used to work in San Diego and moved up here about five years ago to work for the Bureau. She says she's learned a lot from him. I guess the rest we'll have to pry out of him on our own."

Rich pondered his wife's observations as they finished up the dishes. His natural curiosity tended to manifest itself as interrogation when it came to his daughter's previous suitors; obviously, this kind of tactic was not going to be very useful on a law enforcement professional. He decided that he was going to have to develop a plan on the fly after meeting Wayne Rigsby. It wasn't his favorite way of approaching a challenge, but when you had an incomplete scouting report, sometimes it was the best option.

* * *

Grace paced nervously in her walk-in closet, unable to decide what to wear. Normally at home, the family would dress casually for Thanksgiving dinner, but she was willing to bet that Wayne would be wearing a suit and she didn't want him to feel uncomfortable or overdressed. She selected a pair of chocolate brown trousers and a pale blue v-neck sweater; appropriate for work but not too obviously dressy. She was just putting the finishing touches on her makeup when she heard a knock at the door. Looking at her watch, she realized that it was already 11AM and she ran for the door to greet her guest before either of her parents became aware that he was already here.

She threw open her front door and was about to jump into his arms for a hug when she realized that his hands were full. She'd completely forgotten that he'd offered to bring sweet potatoes and he had a casserole dish in his arms. She'd been right about his choice of attire; he was wearing his favorite black suit, French blue shirt and silver and black striped tie, the same outfit he'd been wearing on their first date many months before in Las Vegas. He was clearly nervous, shifting the casserole dish from arm to arm and rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet. She leaned up on her tiptoes to plant a kiss on his cheek, but he turned just in time and she got him on the lips instead.

"Hey."

A broad smile lit up his entire face. "Hey. I know I'm early, I'm sorry. It's just …. I've been up since seven, and I couldn't get back to sleep, so I just figured I'd get ready and make the potatoes and come over a little early, I hope that's okay."

She leaned up to kiss him again, more thoroughly this time. "It's totally fine. Mom's in the shower and Dad is laying down for a little bit, so we'll have some time to ourselves before everything starts getting crazy. Now hand over that casserole dish." Realizing that the dish was cold, she gave him a puzzled look.

"I figured we'd just pop it in the oven about a half-hour before the turkey was supposed to be ready. It can go into the fridge until then."

She stuck the dish in one of the few free spots in her refrigerator and turned around just in time to brace herself against him pressing her back into her fridge, kissing her as if his life depended on it. Once he finally allowed them both to come up for air, she raked her fingers through his hair, trying to soothe his nerves.

He smiled sheepishly and pulled her into a tight hug. "I'm sorry, I got a little carried away there. I just didn't want the whole day to go by without getting to kiss you, and I don't know how you want me to behave around your parents. I guess I couldn't help myself."

She reached inside the lapels of his suit jacket and pried the garment off his shoulders, taking it to her coat closet and hanging it neatly. "I know just the thing to combat those nerves – peeling potatoes. If you're gonna get here early, you're going to be put to work in the kitchen. Grab one of those aprons and get to work, mister." He did as requested, causing Grace to start laughing hysterically when she realized which one he'd picked. Before he had time to comprehend the source of her giggles, she'd crossed the room, leapt into his arms and dove for his mouth, knocking him completely off-balance. He recovered quickly, steadying himself on the edge of the counter before settling her back on her feet.

"What was that all about?" he asked, still in a bit of a daze.

She drew her index finger down his chest seductively, tracing the lettering on the apron. "Just following instructions." Looking down, he realized he'd pulled her "Kiss the Cook" apron off the hook and laughed heartily.

"Okay, do I peel, or do I chop?"

Grace handed over a pound of potatoes and her vegetable peeler. "Rinse off the potatoes, then peel. I'll handle the chopping." They worked quietly and efficiently for the next fifteen minutes before Rigsby finally drummed up the courage to ask the question that had been gnawing at him all morning, and the real reason he'd intentionally arrived much earlier than expected.

"Grace, how much do your parents know?"

Van Pelt dropped the last of the potatoes into her stock pot before turning around to face her boyfriend. "Know about what? About us, or about you?"

"Both."

Grace wiped her hands nervously on her apron. "Um, they know the basics, I guess. They know that by being together, we are bending the rules at the office, so they definitely won't expecting us to be overly affectionate today." She tried to smile reassuringly. "You can probably expect the third degree, more than likely from Dad, because I haven't told them a whole lot about you specifically." His face fell, and she realized immediately that she needed to explain further. She reached up to cup his face so she could look him in the eyes, and hoped that she could make him understand. "Wayne, please understand, I didn't want to tell my parents anything that you weren't comfortable having them know yet, and I especially didn't want them to have any preconceived notions about who you are just because you had a less-than-idyllic childhood."

Rigsby snorted loudly. "Less than idyllic is an understatement."

Grace wanted to cry at the pain in his voice, mirrored on his face. "Maybe so. But all of that helped mold you into the man standing in front of me, and he's the person I'm in love with. Your story is yours to tell, not mine. Whatever you want them to know, is what they need to know. The rest, they'll find out in due time. I'm not ashamed of you, and I'm not ashamed of us, either." She punctuated this statement by drawing his lips to hers for a long, languid, sensual kiss. They broke apart just in time to compose themselves before Pam Van Pelt arrived to commandeer the kitchen. Rigsby ducked out of his apron and reached out to shake Grace's mother's hand. Instead, he was dragged into a crushing bear hug before she stepped back to size him up.

"You must be Wayne. Goodness, Grace's description of you certainly didn't do you justice." Behind Rigsby, Grace was biting on her fist trying to suppress a serious giggle fit at her mother's flirtatious nature emerging.

Rigsby hesitated, unsure of how to respond. He was somewhat used to flirty comments from his girlfriends' mothers, but until Grace, he'd never been serious enough about any of the girls for it to be a problem. "Um, thank you, Mrs. Van Pelt. It's very nice to finally meet you."

Pam smiled. "Please, call me Pam." Stepping around the two young adults, she surveyed the state of dinner preparations. "I see you've done my job for me, prepping the mashed potatoes. Are the sweet potatoes in the fridge?"

"Yes, Mom. We can put them in around 12:15, they only need to cook for a half-hour or so."

Rich Van Pelt ambled into the living room, and upon realizing that everyone was crowded in the kitchen, sidled up to the breakfast bar and was about sit down and join the conversation when he became aware of Wayne's presence.

"Grace, were you going to introduce me to your boyfriend here?"

Van Pelt was so startled that she almost dropped the mixing bowl she'd retrieved out of her cabinet. Her mother gently pried it out of her shaking hands. Grace took Rigsby's hand and tugged him over to sit next to her dad. "Dad, this is Wayne Rigsby. Wayne, this is my dad -" Her father interrupted her, drawing himself up to his full six feet, and reached for Rigsby's hand.

"Rich Van Pelt. It's nice to finally meet you, Wayne."

Rigsby shook his potential future father-in-law's hand firmly. "Likewise, sir. Grace has told me a lot about you."

"Can I get you something to drink, Wayne? A beer, glass of wine, maybe?"

"No, sir, thank you, though."

Pam Van Pelt grabbed her husband's shoulders and steered him back in the direction of the dining area. "Honey, why don't you and Wayne start setting the table while Grace and I prepare the cheese and crackers? We'll need seven place settings. Grace, do you have enough wine glasses for seven people?"

Grace shook her head. "I only have six, but that won't matter. Lisbon and Cho won't drink wine with dinner anyway, so don't worry about setting all the glasses out."

Grace and her mother observed the two men talking as they set out the plates and silverware; Grace visibly relaxed as she overheard Rigsby fill her dad in on his childhood growing up in Riverside, visiting his grandparents in Pensacola during the summers, and why he played soccer instead of football, all the while deftly avoiding having to get into the more negative parts of the story. She wanted her parents to love him as much as she did; if that meant keeping some things quiet a little longer, so be it. Her mother's voice interrupted her musings.

"I meant what I said, Grace; your description of him doesn't do him justice. He's very handsome."

"I'm glad you think so, Mom. Just dial back the flirty a little bit, maybe? You were definitely making him nervous."

Pam grinned. "Done. Wouldn't want to make my future son-in-law nervous." She winked at her only daughter.

"Mom! We're not quite there, yet. We're still trying to figure out how to make this long-term thing work without one or both of us getting fired. Marriage is still …. well, it's a little further away."

"You never know, Grace. Sometimes, sweetheart, a solution presents itself when you least expect it."

Grace remained unconvinced. "We'll see." A sharp knock at the door jolted her out of her suddenly melancholy mood, and she jogged over to answer it. To her great surprise, Lisbon, Cho and Jane were all standing at her front step. Lisbon was juggling her green bean casserole and both Jane and Cho had pies in their hands. "Hey guys, come on in! Lisbon, let me take that casserole dish off your hands."

Her three colleagues entered the apartment and were immediately accosted by Grace's parents. Introductions were made, and they were ushered into the living room to snack on cheese and crackers while Grace and her mom finished up dinner.

Grace stuck the sweet potatoes in the oven and started mashing the regular potatoes. Her oven timer beeped fifteen minutes later, indicating that it was time to remove the turkey and let it rest for a few minutes. "Dad? Can you come in here and take a look at the turkey, make sure it looks okay?"

"Sure thing, kiddo." Grace had removed a crispy golden bird from her oven; he double-checked her meat thermometer to make sure it was in the appropriate range. "Looks perfect, sweetheart, you did a great job." He placed a big kiss on her cheek at the enormous smile of pride that crept onto her face. "Let's tent this baby so it doesn't cool off too much."

"Wait, mom needs the drippings for gravy first."

"Okay, why don't we move the bird to your carving board so mom can work her magic on the gravy, then? Hand over my carving tools, young lady." She complied, and he carefully used the carving fork and her potholders to transfer the turkey to its serving plate, which he then wrapped in a heavy layer of aluminum foil.

Rich smiled proudly and made a big show of exiting the kitchen. "My work here is done."

Grace cleared her throat quite loudly, causing her father to turn around, a slightly guilty look on his face. "Ahem. Not so fast, Dad. Mom and I have to finish mashing the potatoes, so you get to move the rest of the food to the table. How about you start with the green bean casserole Teresa brought?"

Rich saluted his taskmaster daughter and went to work. Ten minutes later, he rejoined her colleagues in the living room; unsurprisingly, their conversation had turned to work. Mostly, about how happy they were to not have been called in so far on the holiday. He clapped his hands to get their attention. "Everybody, dinner is going to be ready in about five minutes. There are glasses of water at each place setting; if you'd like something else to drink, best grab it now." They all leapt up from their seats and started negotiating who would sit where at the table. Ultimately, they decided to allow Wayne and Grace to sit opposite the three of them, with Cho sitting next to Grace's mom, Jane in the middle and Lisbon next to her dad. Grace and her mom returned from the kitchen with the mashed potatoes and gravy, her dad trailing behind them carrying a fairly large turkey. Once everyone was settled in their seats, Rich stood.

"Normally, we would say a short prayer of thanks before starting our meal, but we're going to break with tradition this year, in deference to our daughter's guests. However, I know that everyone at this table has at least something to be thankful for, so I would appreciate it if we could all join hands and take a moment to acknowledge whatever it is you all are thankful for." Wayne reached under the tablecloth to squeeze Grace's hand tightly, tracing his thumb back and forth over the pulse point on the inside of her wrist. His message was loud and clear: _I'm thankful for you_.

After their moment of quiet, Rich sat down and attacked the turkey. "Okay, everyone, dig in. Who wants dark meat?"

* * *

Four hours later, the turkey was a mere carcass, with the wishbone stashed away in the freezer for safekeeping, dessert had been served, and Rich Van Pelt was teaching Lisbon, Jane and Cho the fine art of Euchre. Jane had vague memories of learning the game as a youngster from other children on the carnival circuit, but he was rusty. Having been paired with Lisbon, naturally, he was attempting to cheat on nearly every hand, but he hadn't counted on Rich Van Pelt's observation skills, honed by decades of having to deal with shifty teenage boys on a daily basis. He also had no patience for chatty players. "No table-talking, Mr. Jane. Kimball and I are two points away from winning, and don't think I won't kill this game if you keep trying to cheat."

Jane chuckled; he'd vastly underestimated Grace's father, but he liked the man immensely. Plus, he'd promised Rigsby that he would be on his best behavior for the day, so he buckled down and reviewed his hand, trying to determine the best play. Ultimately, Rich and Cho cleaned up on the next two rounds and the game ended with a whimper. Lisbon rose first from her spot on the couch.

"I think we've prevailed upon the Van Pelts' hospitality long enough. We should get going and give Grace some time to enjoy the rest of the day with her parents." Upon seeing Jane's pout, she put on her best "stern mom" face. "No buts, Jane. Plus, we have to get Cho home so he has time to drive down to San Francisco tonight, remember?"

Jane sighed dramatically, but stood to shake Mr. Van Pelt's hand. "Mr. Van Pelt, it was a great pleasure getting to meet you and your wife. Thank you very much for your hospitality."

Rich Van Pelt accepted the hand offered and shook it jovially. "Don't thank us, Mr. Jane, thank our daughter. This was all Grace's doing." Grace fetched everyone's coats from the closet and waited by the front door as her guests said their thank yous and goodbyes to her parents. She gave Lisbon a quick hug on her way out the door.

"Thanks for coming, guys. It really meant a lot to me."

Lisbon returned the hug forcefully. "Thanks for having us, Grace. Your parents are really wonderful. I'll try to make sure that we don't get called in this weekend so you can have a good visit. See you Monday?" Grace nodded. The three headed out to Lisbon's car and Grace turned back inside, collapsing against the door as it closed behind her.

"Mom, are there any dishes to be done?" She called out to the kitchen.

"No, honey, Wayne and I have it all under control. Are you up for maybe seeing a movie a little later?"

Grace plopped down onto one of the barstools at her breakfast bar. "It's been a long day, Mom, I think I'll just stay in. If you and Dad want to see a show though, I can look up listings for you."

"That's fine, honey. Rich, what was the name of that football movie you wanted to go see?" She called out to her husband in the living room.

"The Blind Side, it's the one with Sandra Bullock in it," he yelled back. Grace couldn't help but giggle. Seeing Wayne's puzzled response to her reaction, she clarified. "Sandra Bullock is one of Dad's favorite actresses." She turned back to address her mother. "Frankly, Mom, I'm surprised you haven't seen it already."

"It just opened two weeks ago, and you know how long it takes some movies to get to Shenandoah."

"That's true, I didn't think about that." She typed away at the laptop she'd retrieved from her desk. "Okay, looks like it's showing at the Century Downtown at 6:45. That's about a 15 minute drive from here; I'll print out driving directions and you guys can take my car." A few more taps and clicks, and Grace ducked into her bedroom to retrieve the printout from her desk.

"Rich?" Pam called back out into the living room, where her husband was watching football. "The movie starts in 45 minutes, does that work for you?"

"Yes honey, that's fine," he yelled back. "Give me five minutes, the game's going to halftime."

Fifteen minutes later, Grace was finally able to shoo her parents out the door, directions and car keys in hand, admonishing them to have a good time at the movies and not to worry, that she and Wayne would find ways to amuse themselves. She walked over to the couch, where Rigsby was already tucked under her afghan, and crawled into his arms.

"Find ways to amuse ourselves?" he asked incredulously. "Is that code for something I should know about?"

She relaxed into his embrace and shifted slightly so that her shoulder and neck were exposed, prompting him to leave a series of soft love bites up to the sensitive spot behind her ear. "Mmm, it can mean whatever you want it to mean."

His grip around her waist tightened as they sunk deeper into the squishy cushions of her couch. "I just want to stay right where we are, for now."

Grace sighed, loving the feel of his strong arms wrapped around her. She tried to shift onto her side so she could look up at his face. "What do you think of my parents so far?"

"They're pretty amazing people, Grace. Which shouldn't surprise anybody, because they raised a pretty amazing daughter."

She punched him teasingly on the arm. "Stop it," she said, blushing.

"I'm serious, Grace. You obviously get your inquisitive nature and your sense of fair play from your dad; your enthusiasm and compassion and nurturing tendencies are all your mom. I would have killed to grow up with parents like them."

She reached up to stroke his face gently, unsure of how exactly to respond. Reminding him of the fact that having had parents and a childhood like hers probably wouldn't have led them to each other, didn't seem like the right thing to say, and she wasn't sure she wholly believed it anyway. Instead, she cupped his face and turned to climb into his lap, leaning up to pour all of her love and desire for him into a forceful, bruising kiss. He pried her hands off his cheeks, breaking apart so he could ask the question that had been nagging him all afternoon.

"Grace, this is probably going to sound like a strange question, but I have to know. Did one of your parents suggest to you that we should break up?"

The mix of surprise and dismay on her face told him all he needed to know, that his assumption had been right. Her parents were concerned at the amount of stress their relationship was putting on her. He couldn't blame them for it, really.

"Mom did, actually. But this was last night, before they'd even met you. I knew once they had a chance to get to know you, that they'd understand. That you're worth the effort."

Rigsby saw a wave of hesitation wash over her face. He almost didn't want to know what was coming next. Steeling himself for the worst, he tipped her chin up to face him and was devastated to see tears pooling in her eyes. "Grace, baby, what's wrong?"

"It's nothing," she replied, breathing in deeply to keep the tears from rolling down her cheeks. Unfortunately, it didn't work.

"Grace, this is not nothing. Please, talk to me."

"It's just … Mom and Dad were right about one thing. We can't keep sneaking around and hiding from everyone if we want to have a future together. I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this, but I just don't see a way around it yet."

Rigsby sat up straight and tucked her head into his shoulder, stroking her back soothingly. "Grace, I've told you before. All you need to do is say the word, and my resignation from the Bureau is on Lisbon's desk by end of business. No questions asked."

"I don't want it to be that way. There has to be a way that we can both stay with CBI and still be together. We just have to find it. Mom said that sometimes, a solution comes up when you least expect it. I hope she's right."

"Mom always knows best, right?" Grace smiled and nodded through her tears, reaching for tissues with which to blow her nose and dry her eyes. "Can we discuss this further after this weekend?"

"Sure."

Rigsby laid back down onto the pillows with Grace spooned in front of him. They settled in to watch the rest of the football game.

An hour later, he felt he breathing slow down and even out, indicating that she'd fallen asleep. He leaned down to press a tender kiss to her neck, and whispered a promise. "We'll find a way to make this work, baby."

* * *

Rich and Pam Van Pelt returned home a little after ten, to find the TV on, but both their daughter and her boyfriend snuggled up on the couch, fast asleep. Pam steered her husband away from the couch, and made sure they didn't make too much noise as they headed for the guest bedroom.

"You don't want to wake them up?" he asked.

"Let them be. They've earned a little time to themselves."

* * *

_A/N, part two: well, if you've made it this far, I salute you. This is the second-longest chapter I have ever written, and the best part is, it was supposed to be even longer! Yes, there was a smut scene that I am leaving out because this chapter is about to get away from me, and I don't think it quite worked with the overall tone anyway. If I get enough votes, I might include it at the beginning of the next chapter, which will cover the rest of the Van Pelts' visit to Sacramento. _


	8. Interlude

A/N: Okay, a few folks left reviews asking for smut, so here you go. A 100%, totally plot-free chapter. If smut isn't your thing, then feel free to come back once I get around to posting chapter nine. Sorry it took so long to post, but hey, holidays and whatnot, hard to find time to write and all that. I hope I made it worth your while.

* * *

Grace woke up several hours later to total darkness and more than a little confusion. Once her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she realized that she was still in her living room, and that she and Wayne had fallen asleep on her couch. She could just make out the time on the clock on her DVR without squinting; it read 12:30. Assuming that her parents were already home and asleep, she carefully shifted onto her stomach and started gently tickling Wayne's ribs in an effort to wake him up.

"Wayne," she whispered breathily, "baby, it's late. Gotta wake up."

He stilled her hands and burrowed deeper into the couch cushions under her afghan. "What time is it?" he asked huskily.

"Shh, not so loud. It's about 12:30." She uttered a muffled squeak when he sat bolt upright in surprise.

"12:30?! Grace, why didn't you wake us up sooner? Shit, your parents probably caught us." Grace would have laughed at the expression of sheer panic that she could barely make out on his face if it weren't for the fact that she knew how important it was to him that he make a good impression on her mom and dad.

"Caught us sleeping, yes. I don't think they'll be too scandalized by that," she teased. She loosened his tie just enough to reach the buttons at his collar, undoing his dress shirt so she could rub the back of his neck. It always did the trick when she needed to distract him enough to get him to relax. His head lolled back onto the arm of her couch and she leaned down to leave a trail of kisses and nips on his neck, focusing particular attention on his jugular. She was quite pleased to elicit a tortured moan from his lips.

"Did you pack a bag?" He nodded softly. "Stay here tonight. It's late, you're tired, you shouldn't have to drive home."

"Are you sure that's a good idea?" he questioned, eyes closed, a completely blissed-out expression crossing his features.

She smirked. "Why, did you have something particular in mind that would be inappropriate?"

He sat up, tucking her hair behind her right ear, whispering just loud enough for only her to hear. "Depends on your definition of inappropriate."

Grace buried her giggles in his shoulder, clutching him tightly in order to prevent herself from shaking with laughter. She climbed off his lap and tugged him up off the couch. "Go, get your bag out of the car. I'm gonna get ready for bed."

Rigsby carefully felt his way through the living room to her front door, pleased with himself that he made it without knocking anything over, or stubbing his toe and screaming in pain loudly enough for the entire building to hear. He flew down her front stairs to his SUV, grabbing the duffel bag that had earned a permanent space in the trunk of his car since he and Grace had first become lovers. He crept quietly back through the apartment, locking her front door behind him. Her bedroom was completely dark, but he'd already stayed over often enough to know the layout like the back of his hand. Setting the bag down next to her dresser, he knelt down and started rummaging for his t-shirt and boxers. It wasn't until he headed to the bathroom to brush his teeth that he noticed that Grace was already fast asleep, burrowed up to her neck under her bedspread. This struck him as a little odd; the fact that she was a blanket hog was nothing new, but she didn't usually commandeer the covers until the middle of the night, and it wasn't a particularly cold evening. Once he crawled into bed, her ulterior motive for hogging the bedcovers became quite clear: she was completely naked under the sheets. He groaned in frustration, loudly enough for her to hear, but he hoped not loud enough to be overheard in the room next door.

"Graaace," he whispered, tucking the sheets around her, "you're killing me here. Please, for the love of all that is holy, put some clothes on. A t-shirt, pajamas, _something_."

Grace tried to squirm out from under the sheets, but Wayne's hold on her was firm and unrelenting, so she settled for flipping onto her back and stretching out, cat-like, so that the full length of her lithe body was pressed up against him. She reached for the bottom edge of her headboard, allowing her more leverage, and put on her most sultry voice, one she reserved only for him.

"And why, pray tell, would I want to do that?"

It had the desired effect. He pried her hands from the bedframe, pinning them securely above her head and burying his face in her cascade of red hair so as not to get distracted further.

"Because, baby, if you don't, I can't promise that I'll be able to keep my hands to myself tonight."

"Just your hands?" she inquired sweetly as she slipped out of his grasp, reaching up under his t-shirt to rake her nails up and down his torso, tracing the grooves of his abdominal muscles and very carefully avoiding dipping under the waistband of his boxers. "Or maybe something else too?"

He reached around her waist and deftly flipped them over, landing on his back and clutching her body tightly to his, pressing her pelvis into his arousal. "Does that answer your question?"

"It does. And this is a problem because why, exactly?"

Rigsby sighed and sagged deeper into the mattress in exasperation. "Your parents are in the next room. Unless you are seriously telling me that you want to risk getting caught by your mom and dad."

Grace frowned. "Caught doing what? Making love to my boyfriend in my own home? If they have a problem with that, then we'd need to have a talk about boundaries. Unless …" she whispered teasingly as she traced her index finger down his sternum, "your real problem is that you think you're not up to it?"

Rigsby switched their positions again, slamming Grace's body hard into the bed and muffling her squeaks of protest with a breath-stealing kiss. "Grace, I am always, and I do mean _always_, up to the task of making love to you."

She reached under his t-shirt, attempting to tug it off. "Then why are you still fully clothed?"

He grabbed her hands, pinning them under her lower back before leaning down to leave a trail of kisses down the center of her body from neck to navel. "Oh, no you don't. If you're going to tempt me to fuck you senseless with your parents right next door, we're going to do this my way. Close your eyes, Grace, and keep your hands to yourself." Satisfied that she would do as asked, Rigsby climbed off the bed and stripped quickly out of his t-shirt and boxers.

Grace felt the mattress dip as Wayne pulled back the sheets to crawl back into bed, and immediately reached out to snuggle into his warmth. She was therefore quite puzzled, and more than a little bit disappointed, to feel him grasp both of her wrists in one hand and roll her over, gently but firmly, onto her left side. She felt him settle in behind her, close enough that she was aware of his presence but leaving enough space that their bodies weren't actually touching. She could feel his breath, steady and even, against the back of her neck and she guessed that he was lying on his side, propped up on one elbow, head in his hand, staring at her. Normally, she wouldn't have minded being ogled in such a fashion, but his earlier concerns about getting caught by her parents worried her. She attempted to flip back onto her other side but he pinned her in place, using his arms to keep her on her side. "Wayne," she whimpered, "what-"

He reached around to cover her mouth while simultaneously leaning in to nibble on her earlobe. Once her felt her relax, his hand left her mouth and wrapped around her waist, yanking her backwards so their bodies were perfectly flush with each other. A loud moan escaped her lips as she felt his erection press hard into the small of her back and she immediately understood where he was going with all this when he responded by muffling her with his hand again.

"Shhh, Grace. We're going to do this my way, remember?" She nodded mutely. "I want you to keep your eyes closed, and just focus on the sound of my voice, okay?" She bit her lip and nodded again; he hated the lip-biting trick, because it usually was a signal of uncertainty for Grace. He left a trail of soft kisses up from her shoulder to her neck just behind her ear, tilting her head up in order to kiss her properly. "Grace, I promise I will make this worth your while. Do you trust me?"

"Always."

"Then I need you to do one thing for me."

"Anything."

Rigsby smiled at her unhesitating willingness to play along. "I'm going to tease you to the point that you're going to be begging me to take you, then I'm going to fuck your brains out. And the whole time, I want you to not make a sound. Do you think you can do that for me?" He saw the uncertainty flicker across her face again, but it was quickly replaced by determination as she nodded repeatedly.

"Good," he whispered as he settled back into the bed, spooning behind her. As he began talking, he started tracing random patterns along her side and across her stomach, feather-light, using just his fingertips. "God, Grace, you have no idea how much just touching you like this turns me on. You have the softest skin. I love knowing that I'm the only one allowed to touch every inch of it. But do you know what turns me on even more?"

Heeding his request to stay silent, she responded by shaking her head no. She felt a huge smile form on his face as he placed a kiss on her right shoulder blade. "Good girl. What really turns me on is finding all your sensitive ticklish spots. Like how you flinch when I trace my fingers up and down your side right here where your waist curves down to your hips. Or how you arch your back like a cat when I lick my way up your spine." He gently tucked away a lock of hair before leaning in for one last ticklish spot. "My favorite spot, though, is right here," as he dove down to suck at the pulse point just below her earlobe, causing her to toss her head back in ecstasy. His lips traveled a path down and around her neck, taking great care not to leave any visible bruises. Grace typically didn't wear turtlenecks, so leaving hickeys would be a bit of a no-no. She reached up to run her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, clawing frantically at him in an effort to gain some measure of control over their encounter. Rigsby pried her hand out of his hair, kissing her palm before threading their fingers together and wrapping his arm around her shoulders to hug her tightly against his chest, covering her back, neck and shoulders in kisses until she started writhing petulantly, desperately trying to escape his grip, which became even tighter in response.

"I'm nowhere near done with you, Grace," he whispered huskily. "I haven't even gotten to my very favorite parts yet." He reached for the edge of the sheet, peeling it away and slowly exposing her naked body to the cool air. She instinctively backed further into him, seeking his body heat, hugging her own arms to her chest to keep warm. Reaching for her arms, he clasped their hands together again, gingerly running their combined fingertips across her abdomen, up her sides along her ribcage, tracing along her collarbone, down the valley between her breasts, before finally stopping to cup her breasts.

"Oh, God, Grace, do you have any idea how amazing your tits are? They fit so perfectly in my hands, like they were made just for me." He started rolling his thumbs around her already-stiff nipples, teasing them into even firmer peaks. "Don't even get me started on how good you taste. I don't even have words for what it feels like to have you gripping my hair, arching even further into my mouth while I'm sucking your nipples between my teeth. The sounds you make would be enough to make any man hard in a second."

She reacted just as he thought she would, by arching up, pushing harder into their joined hands. "That's right, exactly like that, baby. Is this turning you on as much as it's turning me on?" She licked her lips and dragged one of his hands to her mouth, kissing each fingertip as she nodded enthusiastically. "I believe you, but there's only one way to find out for sure." He eased her right knee up, wrapping her leg behind his, using his knee to nudge her hips open. Reaching for her hand again, he pressed her fingers hard into her clit, causing her hips to jerk backwards forcefully. "Oh, yes, Grace, that's more like it. Feel how wet you are for me," he instructed as he guided their entwined fingers into her center, coating them with evidence of her arousal. "I bet I know what you really want right now. You'd rather have my tongue fucking you, my lips sucking your clit hard into my mouth, wouldn't you?" She gripped his hand even tighter, thrusting her hips forcefully against his palm. "Tell me what you want, Grace."

She continued to rub herself hard against his hand, trapping his fingers between her thighs. "You … need you inside me … can't take any more of this … ahhhhhhh … please, Wayne, need you to fuck me."

"The lady's wish is my command," he whispered sweetly as he re-positioned his knee, prying her thighs open as he aligned his hips to slide his cock into her center. He rocked back and forth, inching in a little deeper with every thrust forward.

Grace's hand never left its spot resting on her pelvis, the heel of her palm pressed firmly just above her pubic bone. She'd never been with a man before who she'd trusted enough to penetrate her this way, and trying to settle on one of the myriad new sensations she was feeling was impossible. She felt his tip bumping against her inner walls with every thrust, while she marveled at how smoothly and effortlessly his shaft glided in and out of her pussy. His grip on her hipbones became increasingly tighter, bordering on painful, as his thrusts devolved into a less gentle, more primal motion. What had started out as a slow burn was quickly threatening to boil over, and she knew she had to break his one rule in order for them both to fall over the edge.

"Please, Wayne," she begged, "can't take any more of this, need to come now!" She was thrown hard almost all the way onto her stomach, popping her right hip open as his thrusts slammed her lower body into the bed, trapping her hand between her clit and the mattress. The shock was all she needed to trigger her orgasm, her muscles spasming manically against her fingertips, the heat radiating all the way down to her toes, until the contractions faded into a softer fluttering, a sensation she tried to hold on to as much as she could, knowing that Wayne wasn't far behind. His entire body laid out flat against hers, she could hear his hips slapping against her ass as he thrust faster and harder, mumbling sweet nothings that she could just barely make out through the fog of lust currently clouding her brain.

"Fuck, Grace, you feel so good … feel how good we are together, how perfectly we fit together … love you so much … could do this all night … never want to be with anyone else … love making you come …" Anything else he might have said was lost in a series of grunts and moans as he yanked her up off the bed, leaning back on his haunches and settling her in his lap. Wrapping one arm around her hips and the other around her shoulders, he clenched her body in a vice grip as he threw every ounce of energy he had left into a few final sharp thrusts, muffling what would have been a loud, exhausted, satiated groan by sucking on her shoulder as he came. He rocked them back and forth for a few minutes, smothering her in more kisses as they both came down from their highs. She turned to flop onto her back, dragging him down so that his head pillowed on her chest, running her fingers gently through his hair. Once he felt her breathing settle into her more normal, even rhythm, he dared to look up at her, settling his chin on her chest.

"Baby, was that okay? You'd tell me if we were doing something that you didn't like, wouldn't you?" he asked nervously.

She pulled the sheets up to cover them both and shimmed down so they were face-to-face, cupping his cheeks. "Wayne, that was better than just good. That-" she reached up for a kiss, "was-" another kiss "-amazing. And sexy. And erotic. And did I mention hot?" Her megawatt grin slowly faded into a wistful smile.

"What's wrong, Grace?"

Her smile turned thoughtful as she started twisting their fingers together absentmindedly. "Nothing's wrong. It's just that … well, no one's ever done that for me before. Touched me the way you did, telling me exactly what you think is sexy about me. Like I'm the only woman you want to be with."

Wayne frowned at the realization that she might still have nagging doubts about his feelings for her. "Grace, I've got news for you. Any man you've been with who didn't make you feel like the most beautiful, sexiest, most desirable woman on God's green Earth is a fool and an asshole. I'm not going to deny that there have been other women I've felt strongly about, but Grace, know this: there is no one else that I want to be with ever again but you. I'll spend the rest of my life making you feel this way every day if you'd let me."

Confused, she leaned up to look closer into his eyes. "Wayne, are you proposing to me?"

"Just making sure you know exactly how I feel. The next step is up to you, and whenever you're ready to take it, I'll be here." He rolled over onto his back, snuggling under the sheets and tucking her head into the crook of his neck. "Sleep on it, okay?"

"Okay," she replied sleepily. As she drifted off, her mother's words from earlier in the day echoed in the recesses of her mind.

_Sometimes, a solution presents itself when you least expect it._

* * *

_A/N, part two: okay, so I lied. There is a tiny bit of plot development in this chapter. Anyway, this whole writing smut thing is hard, yo, (pun not intended), so it would really make my day if you all would leave a review and let me know how ya liked it. _


	9. Cry if You Want to

_A/N: This chapter earns its M rating not for smut (sorry, ficlit) but for some language and definite adult themes and major angst._

* * *

_Friday, 8AM_

Pam Van Pelt tapped softly on her daughter's bedroom door, hoping that she wasn't disturbing anything too private between Grace and her boyfriend. Poking her head carefully in the doorway just enough so she could be heard, she decided to risk waking one or the both of them up.

"Grace? Honey, are you awake?"

Grace responded without stirring. "Yes, mom, I'm awake. What's up?" she mumbled.

"Dad and I are going to head out for a walk, then get a cup of coffee. I just didn't want you to worry if you woke up and realized we weren't here."

Grace smiled at her mother's thoughtfulness. "Thanks, Mom. What's the plan for the rest of the day?"

"Are you up for some shopping?"

"As long as we don't hit the malls before noon, sure."

"Okay. Dad and I will be back in an hour or so, I guess."

"Okay, have fun," Grace replied as she snuggled deeper under her blankets. After her mom shut the door with a soft click, she wrapped her arms tightly around Rigsby's waist and sighed contentedly. "Did you hear that? We have a whole hour to ourselves," she whispered as she started sucking hungrily on his pulse point.

Rigsby snaked his hand into her hair, tugging her head back forcefully and fusing their mouths together. "I heard. Do you have plans for this little window of private time?"

She reached back and untangled his hand from her hair, kissing his palm before resting her head on his chest. "I'm still recovering from last night, so I think I'll just stay right here and snuggle."

She felt his whole body tense as he started gently but tentatively stroking her hair. "Wayne, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, it's just, I was thinking about last night."

Grace's head popped up in surprise. "Don't tell me you're regretting it now? Or backtracking on what you said?"

His grip on her tightened. "God, no, Grace. I meant every last word of what I said last night. I just …" he paused, and swallowed hard, unsure of how to proceed, "I don't even know where to start."

"How about at the beginning?"

He relaxed a tiny bit as she held him closely while he gathered his thoughts. "I love you so much, Grace. I told you last night that I'd spend the rest of my life making you feel like the only woman on Earth worth having, and I meant that. But Grace, these feelings scare the hell out of me. I didn't exactly have the greatest role models when it comes to adult relationships, you know. I don't know if I know how to be the man I want to be for you, the kind of man you deserve." He blinked repeatedly to keep the tears from flowing that were threatening to trek down his cheeks.

Grace pulled herself up into a sitting position, and shifted him around so that he was lying with his back up against her chest, cuddling him the way she might a small child, stroking his hair softly and kissing his forehead. "Wayne, are you worried that you might become like your dad? Because the mere fact that we're even having this conversation in the first place tells me that you know far more about being a man, and a potential husband and father, than he ever would have learned. You're a good man, and you have a good heart, and that's all I need to know."

He tilted his head back to look up at her, upside-down, seeing the complete confidence she had in him, and knew the time had come to fill Grace in on the rest of his story. The parts he'd kept well-hidden, only to be revealed when and if he ever found someone he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. This was it, a make-or-break moment.

"Grace, you haven't heard the whole story about my parents, and how my dad ended up in prison." He sat up, reaching over the edge of the bed to grab his boxers and t-shirt. He tugged on the boxers, and handed over the t-shirt to her. She obligingly pulled it on over her head, understanding instinctively that this was a conversation he wanted to have without distractions. She tucked her knees up to her chest, tugging the fabric over them, and sat back against her headboard, waiting for him to continue.

"You know about my dad's criminal record, of course. Have you ever actually looked up the records?"

She was puzzled by the question; he often teased her about her inquisitiveness, but it had honestly never occurred to her to check on his father's criminal record. The specifics hadn't really seemed that important. "No. I would never have done that without asking you first."

He swallowed hard before continuing. "Most of the early stuff on his record, before I was born, is relatively small-time bullshit – larceny, grand theft, that kind of thing. Stuff you'd expect from a low-level gang thug. It wasn't until he started rising up the ranks that it really started to get bad. Drug trafficking and prostitution, mostly. If he wasn't high, he was drunk. And when he was drunk, that's when he started throwing punches. When he was around, at least. It was easier when he was in jail; then I could just pretend he didn't exist. We didn't always have much money, but Mom was a lot less stressed out when Dad wasn't around, and at least he wasn't hitting her, so we did the best we could. And she sent me off to Florida to be with my grandparents during the summers when I was little, so I wasn't around on the off chance that he'd somehow gotten out on bail, or sprung by a parole board that didn't give a damn about the arrest record as long as your arm. Because he didn't have any assault convictions on his record, he wasn't considered a violent offender."

Tears started streaming uncontrollably down Grace's face. She saw the faraway look in Wayne's eyes and knew she wouldn't be able do or say anything to reach him, to bring him back to her, and their present, until he'd poured out every last bit of this story, even if it wrecked him. She waited patiently, carefully eyeing his hands, which he repeatedly clenched into and out of tight fists as he was talking.

"I got home early one night after school, I must have been 14 or 15, I guess. Mom was working her night shift job, so I knew she wouldn't be home. I didn't expect to see _him_ sitting on the front porch, high as a kite and equally shitfaced." The venom with which he spat out the word _him_ made her sick to her stomach, but she kept her emotions in check; she needed to be strong for him. There would be a time for her to deal with all this later.

"He wouldn't even let me in the house. The second he saw me walk up, he got up off the porch and started pacing, ranting and raving. He was so out of it I didn't even understand most of what he was saying, but all of a sudden he turned and looked at me, and I saw clarity just wash over his face. Then he hit me square in the jaw with a punch I should have seen coming. It was at least five minutes before I could even register that I was on the ground and he was beating me to a pulp. The entire time, all I could hear him say was how I ruined everything, just by existing. That he never should have gotten together with Mom, that she was a whore, that if he'd known he was just going to knock her up, he'd never have gotten drunk enough to want to fuck her in the first place, he'd have been more careful. Mom got home just in time to find him pinning me to the ground, his hands wrapped around my neck. She started screaming at the top of her lungs, yelling for our neighbors to call an ambulance. And that's when he stopped wailing on me and turned on her." Wayne had gone pale as a ghost and completely stonefaced by this point; Grace had never seen him so emotionless.

"By the time the ambulance arrived, a pretty big crowd had formed around our little front yard. Two of our neighbors were struggling to keep my dad in check, my mom was unconscious and she had a broken nose, three broken ribs and a shattered cheekbone. Dad broke one of my arms and I had a collapsed lung. The cops who showed up had been to our house before, but Mom sent them away every time, insisting it was a family thing, and she didn't want to press charges. This time, they had no choice, and they arrested him on the spot. When the judge saw the photos of us from the hospital, he refused to set bail. Dad didn't go to trial for another couple of months, and Mom refused to testify against him. She didn't want to risk the gang turning on her. But I wanted to be done with him, so I took the stand. The transcripts were sealed because I was a minor at the time, but my testimony was enough to convict him on two counts of attempted murder. I sent my own father to prison, Grace." He buried his face in his hands so she wouldn't see the tears running down his cheeks, but the uncontrollable shaking and heaving was a dead giveaway.

Grace crawled across the bed and climbed carefully into his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck, whispering softly in his ear and rubbing his back soothingly. "Wayne, it's okay. You did the right thing. You were strong for yourself, and for your mom. It's okay, baby, that was a long time ago, and it's all over." She started to rock them gently, hoping the rhythmic motion would help calm him. She soon felt his tears soaking the shoulder of the t-shirt she was wearing, and couldn't hold back her own sobs any longer. She grieved for the little boy who'd never known what it was like to have a normal family; for the teenager, forced to grow up too fast and too soon; and for the grown man in her arms, baring a long-since buried piece of his soul, and forcing himself to relive the most hellish time of his life so she could fully understand how far he'd come.

She knew, just as instinctively as she could recall her own name, that no other woman had ever gotten close enough to learn any of this information. The egotistical side of her swelled with pride that he'd chosen her to share this with; that was immediately shouted down by her compassionate side, horrified that he'd ever had to live through the nightmare in the first place. Eventually, his tears subsided, and his breathing evened out. He pulled back, daring to look up at her, and when she saw the look of sheer astonishment on his face, the waterworks started up all over again.

"You're still here?" he asked incredulously, wiping her tears away with his thumbs and pulling her into a bone-crushing hug, touching every inch of her that he could reach, as though if he let go, she would magically vanish.

She gripped his face tightly in both hands and pulled his head away from her shoulder to make sure he could see her, and understand that she wasn't a mirage. "Wayne, I'm not going anywhere. I promise. I love you so much, and none of this information changes any of that."

He choked back a rueful laugh. "It probably should. Any sane woman would have gone running for the hills after hearing all that."

"Fortunately for you, I'm crazy about you, so you don't have to worry about me running anywhere." She saw a slight smile crack on his face and let out a huge sigh of relief that her tiny attempt at levity worked.

"It breaks my heart to know that you had to go through any of it. But knowing all of this …. it all makes me love you even more, Wayne. Because now I understand more fully how you came to be the man you are. Why you do the things you do. I know that you believe that you could be like your father, but I don't believe that at all. Want to know why?" He nodded. "Your father was a coward, Wayne. A man who hid behind drugs and booze and violence, blamed other people for his failures and never took any responsibility for his own actions. He never cared about anyone but himself. You are none of those things, and you never will be. You stood up to him, stood up for yourself and your mom, even though it was probably the hardest thing you will ever have to do in your life. That requires a kind of strength that I cannot even fathom being able to possess. You are kind, and loving, and you respect the people who matter most to you. Those things alone make you a hundred times the person your father ever was." She kissed his temple, nuzzling his cheek and started running her fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, debating whether to ask the one question that had been nagging at her.

"Wayne?"

"Hmm?"

"How did your mom react to your decision to testify in your dad's trial?"

He sat back to study her, surprised and more than a little bit impressed that she'd picked up on the one detail he'd deliberately omitted. "We barely spoke for six months. He was moved to Corcoran after he was sentenced, and she went to visit him a few times. I flat-out refused to go with her. To this day, I still don't understand what they saw in each other. I've given up trying. Anyway, she'd gone up there one Saturday for a visit, and I stayed home, and the whole day all I could think about was why he was so much more important to her than I was, why my feelings didn't seem to matter to her. I got myself so worked up about it that she'd barely walked in the door when she got home before I exploded. She just stood there and took it, Grace. Like she deserved every ounce of poison and bile I could throw at her. When I finally realized that I was reacting just like Dad had done, I just sat down in the middle of our living room and started bawling. I don't think I've ever cried that hard before or since."

Grace took both of his hands in hers and settled them in her lap, gently massaging his palms. She noticed that his color had gone from gray to green and she did not want him stressing out any further, potentially making himself sick over this conversation if he didn't have to. "Wayne, we don't have to talk about this anymore if you don't want to," she said reassuringly.

"I have to, Grace. You need to know everything, and if I don't get this all out, I may never have the guts to do it again." She squeezed his hands tightly and nodded that he should continue. "Once I calmed down, Mom explained almost everything to me. She never could explain why she was attracted to Dad – she always said it was just 'one of those things.' She told me about her visits – Dad would let her come see him, but she always ended up doing all the talking. She would show him pictures of me, clippings about my soccer games, anything to find out if it ever occurred to him that he had a son he should be proud of. She had finally decided that day that he was a lost cause and she promised never to visit him again. I asked her why he'd told me that I 'ruined everything' and that's when she started crying."

Grace had a sickening feeling that this story was only going to get worse and fought hard to quell the angry bile rising in her throat.

"She and Dad had a huge fight the day she told him she was pregnant. She'd hoped that the news would push him into going straight, but that completely backfired. He walked out, hopped on his bike and she didn't hear one word about him for another four months, when someone from the San Diego County Sheriff's Department called to inform her that he was in jail again. She refused to post his bail; by that point, she was already making plans to put me up for adoption once I was born. My grandparents got wind of that somehow – I'm not really sure how exactly, Mom claimed that she never told them – and my grandmother basically moved to California to talk her out of giving me up, and she helped raise me until I was six months old."

Grace covered her mouth with her hands, breathing in deeply and steadily to keep herself from hyperventilating. She was dumbstruck at this final piece of information; Wayne had never made much of a secret about the fact that he and his mother were not that close, but she would never in a million years have guessed at the reason why. She was torn between a deep-seated resentment towards both of his parents at their treatment of their only child, and amazement that he'd made it through to adulthood, relatively well-adjusted, against all of the odds stacked against him.

"Grace?" His voice quavered. "Say something?"

She climbed over and settled herself in his lap wrapping her limbs around him and hugging him to her as tightly as she could. "I don't even know what to say, baby. 'I'm sorry' doesn't even begin to cover it. I could tell you that I hate both your parents for everything they did and didn't do for you, but the fact is that they made you, so I can't hate them entirely. I wish I had a magic wand that I could wave and just make this all go away, so you'll never have to deal with it again."

"In all honesty, Grace, I don't intend to tell anyone the whole story ever again. You're the first, last and only person who will ever need to know all of it."

"That's a responsibility I'm willing to take on. You should never have to bear all this alone." She eased them both carefully backwards onto the pillows, tugging the bedspread over their bodies and snuggling into his side. "You look exhausted. Try to go back to sleep for a little bit?"

His eyes closed not long after his head hit the pillow and he turned over onto his stomach, wrapping one arm around her waist and burying his head in the crook of her shoulder.

"I love you, Grace. Love you so much," he mumbled as he drifted off back to sleep.

She stroked his face and leaned down to kiss his forehead. "I love you too, Wayne. I promise you, I'm not going anywhere."

* * *

_A/N, part two: This is really not where I had intended to place this big, important conversation between these two, but I realized that it had to happen sooner rather than later. The backstory I've given Rigsby is based upon nothing more than what we've already seen from him so far, and my own extrapolation of what could have happened to set him on his path. Any and all comments are welcome. _


	10. Past, Present, Future

_A/N: Hi! Remember me? Once again, I apologize for the delay in getting this chapter posted; real life has been, well, real life, and you know how that goes. This is the last we're going to see of the Van Pelts' visit to Sacramento – I have loved writing Rich and Pam (they are inspired by two people very dear to me) but I gotta get a move on, because I have a very special chapter for you all for Valentine's Day that isn't going to write itself! As always, thanks to all of you who have been along for the ride on this open-ended tale; your feedback means a lot to me. - aml_

* * *

Grace slowly drifted back into consciousness about an hour after falling back to sleep. She woke up feeling physically rested, but still emotionally drained. Looking down at Wayne, she was relieved to see that he was still asleep. She reached up to tenderly stroke his face, smoothing out the few stress lines that still remained on his forehead. His grip around her waist tightened as he shifted slightly onto his side. She cursed herself silently for waking him.

"You woke me up from the best dream," he mumbled sleepily.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to," she whispered. "What were you dreaming about?"

"Us. We were in a hospital room."

Grace's brow furrowed in confusion. "Honey, dreams that involve hospitals generally aren't a good thing."

"No, this was good. We were in the hospital because we had a baby. You and me and a little baby girl."

She wasn't ready to admit this to him openly yet, but her heart leapt at the mental image of them as parents, starting their own family. "A baby girl, huh?"

"Uh huh. She was the most beautiful baby girl ever."

Grace chuckled softly under her breath as she reached down to gently scratch the back of his neck and his shoulders. "Most beautiful baby girl ever? Which one of us did she look like?"

His face scrunched up in thought, despite the fact that he was still half-asleep. "I don't remember which one of us she looked like."

"Then how do you know she was the most beautiful baby girl ever?" she teased.

"Because she was ours," he replied, matter-of-factly.

She smiled. "Naturally." The front door closed with a loud click, indicating that her parents were home. "Sounds like Mom and Dad are back. I'm going to hop in the shower. You going to sleep a little longer?"

He nodded, nuzzling her neck. "Yeah, I'll grab a shower after you're done."

She tilted her back slightly, gripping the back of his neck tightly to keep him in place, licking her pulse point. "Mmm, okay. Maybe you can file away that dream of yours for later." She leaned down to leave a quick peck on his forehead before easing out of the bed.

Once in the bathroom, she turned the faucet in her shower on full blast, as hot as she could reasonably tolerate. She stepped under the steaming spray and tried to allow the hot water to relax her tense muscles. The water washed away the tears that had returned in earnest; tears of anger and frustration that he'd had to suffer through so much at such a young age, and sadness at the knowledge that he had been too scared to share the full extent of his past with her, fearing that she would reject him. She suddenly realized she'd been in the shower far too long when she heard him knock on the door.

"Grace? Honey, is everything okay?"

"Yeah," she shouted back. "I'll be out in a minute." She quickly lathered and rinsed her hair and turned off the water, stepping out into her bathroom, wrapping her hair in a towel turban and tugging on her bathrobe. She leaned over the sink to splash cold water on her face, hoping to erase the evidence of her tears. When she stepped back out of the bathroom and saw the devastated look on Wayne's face, she knew it hadn't worked. He was off the bed and across the room in barely two strides, gathering her up in his arms and carefully settling back on the bed, hugging her tightly. She soon felt his body start to shake uncontrollably again as he started rocking them back and forth, and heard him muttering into her shoulder.

"God, Grace, I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. I shouldn't have burdened you with all this, it isn't fair to you. Jesus, I'm so sorry."

"Wayne, look at me," she ordered. When he refused to comply, she pried his head off her shoulder and held his face firmly in her hands. His eyes were shut tightly, trying to fight off further tears. "Wayne, please open your eyes and look at me."

She drew in a deep breath, trying to calm them both down before continuing. "Don't think for one second that any of this is a burden, or somehow unfair, to me. I am your girlfriend, Wayne," she said sternly, "this is exactly the kind of issue I don't want you to be keeping from me. It's not a matter of fair or unfair. It's part of what made you who you are. If we can't share these kinds of experiences with each other, then our relationship doesn't work. Yes, I am upset about everything you told me this morning. How could I not be affected by it? But it's in the past, Wayne. It's not part of our present, and I refuse to let it affect our future. I love you, and if I have to tell you that fifty times a day, every day, to get that through your stubborn head, I will."

She sat back, trying to assess his emotional state. His completely unfocused stare unnerved her.

"Wayne?" she asked, waving a hand in front of his face, trying to snap him back to reality, "say something, please?" Instead, he pulled her back into his embrace, crushing her against his chest, trailing kisses over every inch of exposed skin, causing her to break out into giggles. "I take it this means 'I love you, too'?"

"Grace, I don't know that I have the words for how I feel about you. 'I love you' doesn't seem like it's enough."

Grace smiled brightly, leaning over to nuzzle his jaw and nibble on his ear. " 'I love you' will do just fine, thank you," she whispered. "Okay, no more of this emotional crap for today. I don't know about you, but I'm pretty cried out for one weekend."

He laughed heartily. "Yeah, I think I've had enough to last me a while. I guess I should probably get in the shower before your parents decide to send the St. Bernards after us."

Grace dressed quickly, pulling her hair into a loose braid instead of bothering to blow-dry it and finally emerged from her room. Her parents were sitting at the dining room table, reading the paper.

"Good morning sweetheart," her mom chirped. "Did you two decide to sleep in this morning?"

Grace made a beeline for the kitchen, pouring herself a bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee. "Yeah, we don't usually get a chance to just hang out, even on the weekends." She set her breakfast down at the table and kissed each of her parents on the cheek before digging in. "What's the plan for shopping today, Mom?" she asked in between bites of cereal.

Pam Van Pelt grinned. "Well, since you and Wayne are coming home for Christmas, I figure you'll do most of your gift shopping online and just have the packages shipped, right?" Grace nodded through a mouthful of cereal. "I thought it might be fun to go shopping for Christmas decorations for your apartment here instead. We could get a tree and some lights."

"What about ornaments?" Grace suddenly noticed that her father had stepped away when he returned with two boxes in his arms.

"We've taken care of that, at least a little bit, honey," her dad replied. "Go ahead, open the boxes."

Grace carefully pried the lid off one box and extracted a tissue-wrapped lump from it. Unraveling the paper slowly, she gasped when she realized what was under all the wrapping – a cheerleader ornament that had been given to her by her grandmother as a child. "Are these all my ornaments?"

The Van Pelts shared a wistful, but proud smile. "Yes, honey," Pam replied. "Dad and I agreed that you should have them now. We weren't sure whether you'd want to do a tree this year, but we figured it would be easier to bring them out with us, since we were coming out here anyway."

Grace pawed through the contents of the two boxes, creating a mental inventory of each ornament as it was revealed. Each one had a story to tell, and she couldn't wait to share them all with Wayne. "I hadn't even thought about putting up a tree this year."

"We don't have to get one if you don't want to, Grace."

"No, Mom, I definitely want to do a tree this year. We're probably going to need more ornaments than just these, though. And a tree topper. Oh, a skirt, too."

Pam laughed. "Okay, Grace, let's make a list. We can get the tree and lights at Home Depot, maybe stop by Michael's for more ornaments, a topper and a skirt." She started making notes on a notepad, sifting through the ads in the paper to determine if there were any applicable sales.

Grace got up to rinse off her cereal bowl and mug, placing them in the dishwasher. "I'm going to let Wayne know that we're headed out. Dad, do you think you two can keep yourselves occupied for a couple of hours?" she teased.

Rich Van Pelt checked his watch, surprised to discover that it was already almost noon. "Well, the Nebraska game kicks off in about a half-hour, if Wayne can deal with watching football for a couple of hours, I think we'll be fine."

Grace was about to check in on him when she felt a pair of strong arms snake out from her bedroom door, wrap themselves around her waist and toss her back up against the wall. She barely had time to take a breath before it was stolen from her by a fierce kiss. Threading her fingers through his still-wet hair, she leaned up onto her tiptoes for another kiss. It took her a minute to come back to herself and realize that he'd just stepped out of the shower and was wearing only a towel.

"Are you trying to kill me?" she asked as she dipped her fingertips underneath the towel.

"Kill you? No," he growled as he dove down for another kiss. "Tempt you? Maybe."

"Unfortunately for you," she purred as she scratched her nails across his back, "I have better self-control than that. Mom and I are about to head out to do some shopping. Are you going to be okay with keeping Dad company this afternoon?"

"Of course, why wouldn't I be?" Wayne asked, genuinely confused.

"Well, I just know Dad is probably going to take the opportunity to give you the third degree even more than he did yesterday, and after everything we talked about this morning, I just don't want you to feel pressured or anything," she finished lamely.

"Grace, I think I can handle your dad for a couple of hours. Since I hope that I'm going to be seeing a lot more of him over the years, this is probably a good opportunity for us to get to know each other."

She reached up for one final kiss before reaching around to give him a smack on the ass. "Get dressed, mister. Can't watch football naked, at least not today. And you'll probably go a long way with Dad if you offer to make him a turkey sandwich for lunch."

"Turkey sandwich, got it. Go, have a good afternoon with your mom. Your dad and I will be just fine, I promise." He disappeared back into the bathroom to finish getting dressed.

Grace took a quick look at herself in the mirror, to make sure she didn't look disheveled, and grabbed her purse and keys. "Mom," she yelled out to the living room, "are you ready to go?"

Pam poked her head in the doorway. "Yes, Grace, I'm ready to go. You didn't have to yell."

Grace sprinted out the door, pausing only to give her dad a quick peck on the cheek. "Bye, Dad. Have a good time with Wayne today. If we're not back by dinnertime, send the St. Bernards after us."

"Will do, sweetheart."

Wayne emerged a few minutes later and headed straight for the kitchen. "Mr. Van Pelt, I was going to make a turkey sandwich for lunch, would you like for me to make you one?"

"Please, Wayne, call me Rich." He settled on a stool at the breakfast bar and appraised his daughter's boyfriend. Wayne's obvious comfort in puttering around her kitchen indicated that he'd spent a significant amount of time in this apartment. Their relationship was definitely more serious than either of them would willingly admit.

"Are you sure, sir?"

He smiled. "You're my daughter's boyfriend, Wayne, not one of my players and not one of my students. I appreciate the show of respect, but call me Rich."

Wayne returned the smile uncertainly. "Okay, Rich. What do you like on your sandwich?"

"Lettuce, tomato, and some spicy mustard if Grace has any in her fridge."

Wayne retrieved the necessary items and set about assembling two sandwiches; one with mustard for Rich, and one with mayo and cheese for himself. "Grace would kill me if she saw me putting together this sandwich," he said, chuckling to himself. "She's constantly after me to eat healthier, and would definitely not approve."

"Sounds an awful lot like her mother," Rich replied, winking conspiratorially. "Ooh, it's already 12:30, the game is about to kick off. I know you played soccer as a young man, Wayne, but do you like football?"

"Which game are we watching?"

"Nebraska and Colorado."

"I'm not very up on my Big 12 schools, but yeah, I'll watch." The two men settled on opposite ends of Grace's couch, each with a sandwich and soda. "I know that Grace went to Iowa, but I think she mentioned that you and Mrs. Van Pelt both graduated from Iowa State. Aren't Nebraska and Colorado your rivals?"

"Technically, yes. The Cyclones are in what we like to call rebuilding mode this year, though. No, I have a couple of former students redshirting for Nebraska this year, so I've been trying to keep an eye on the program, see how they're doing."

Wayne let out a sharp, low whistle. "Wow, that's very impressive, sir. I was under the impression from Grace that Shenandoah was, um, a smaller school?"

"We're one of the larger schools in the area, but compared to schools in Des Moines and Iowa City, we're not very big. Education has always been our staff's first priority; I am very proud to say that about 90 percent of all my former players have gone on to get college degrees over the 30-something years I've been coaching. I'm more proud of that statistic than I am of our overall record. We occasionally get recruiters from some of the smaller schools in the area, once in a blue moon from a Division one school like Iowa State. Nebraska, however, was a whole 'nother ball of wax. Having those recruiters from Nebraska at our games last season was both a blessing and a curse. Made me seriously consider retiring from coaching for the first time in my career."

"Really?" Wayne was stunned at this admission. From Grace's descriptions of her father, he'd always assumed the man would have to be dragged off the football field, kicking and screaming.

"Really. Grace, I am sure, has probably given you the idea that I eat, sleep and breathe football from August to May and that I might take June and July off, just to placate her and her mother." Seeing Wayne attempting, and failing miserably, to stifle his laughter told him that his assessment was correct. "If she'd been describing me 35 years ago, before I met and married her mother, Grace would have been right. But as the saying goes, life is what happens when you're busy making other plans. Pam happened. And then a few years later, Grace happened. I may not be on the path I had originally set out for myself, but Pam and Grace are more than worth it."

Wayne sunk back further into the couch cushions, deep in thought. Rich decided to leave the conversation alone for the time being. They watched the remainder of the first half amiably, commenting occasionally on the progress of Nebraska's offense and Rich educating Wayne on the finer points of Nebraska's "Blackshirt" defensive traditions. As the broadcast headed to commercial at halftime, Wayne got up to clear the plates, with Rich following him to the kitchen in order to grab a bottle of water and leftover dessert. He sat down at the breakfast bar while Wayne was washing the dishes and decided now was the time to pick up where they had left off earlier.

"Wayne, can I ask you a personal question?"

Rigsby was so nervous at the ominous tone in Grace's father's voice that he nearly dropped the glasses he was rinsing into the sink. "Of course, Rich, what is it you'd like to know?" _Dammit Rigsby, great job covering for yourself. You sounded like a sixteen-year-old caught in his girlfriend's bedroom after curfew_, he silently berated himself.

"Your relationship with Grace is a lot more serious than either of you have let on, isn't it?"

Rigsby set the glasses down in the dishwasher very carefully, using the momentary distraction to gather his composure. "I don't know how, exactly, Grace has characterized our relationship to you and Mrs. Van Pelt, but yes, sir, I'm crazy about Grace. I'd marry her tomorrow if I thought we could get away with it."

Rich saw a surprisingly familiar expression on the younger man's face and felt confident that he was sincerely, hopelessly in love with his only daughter. "It's my understanding that your relationship is essentially against the rules, is that correct?"

Rigsby stared down at the countertop, ashamed to be admitting all of this to Grace's father despite the fact that he was asking questions to which he clearly already had the answers. "Yes, sir, that's correct. We can't be open about our relationship at work due to policy. I like to believe that we do a pretty good job of keeping our interactions professional at the office, and neither of us has been given any indication from Agent Lisbon that our work is suffering. I think it's pretty likely that the other members of our team suspect something is up, though. I've told Grace before, all she needs to do is say the word, and my resignation from the Bureau is on Lisbon's desk by the end of the day. I've had inquiries about leaving before, getting back into working on arson investigations on a regular basis again. I'm confident I wouldn't be out of a job for long if that were what we decided to do."

Rich propped his chin in his palm and regarded Wayne thoughtfully. "Let me guess: Grace doesn't want you to leave the CBI because she believes there should be some way for the both of you to work there and still be together."

"Yes. And she is right. If we were in different units, our relationship wouldn't be a problem. But I don't want Grace to leave Serious Crimes because of me. I couldn't handle it if she ended up resenting me for asking her to give up her career like that."

"You may have asked, Wayne, but only Grace can decide what she really wants. Let me tell you from experience, when your personal life and your professional goals are at cross-purposes, sometimes it helps you determine what's really important. And if she moves to a different unit, is it really giving up her career? It would be different if you were asking her to quit entirely."

Rigsby pondered this point. "That's true."

"Let me tell you a little story, Wayne. As I said, I can tell you from experience how personal and professional goals can make a person re-think his priorities. Has Grace ever told you how her mother and I met?"

"No sir, she hasn't, actually."

"Pam and I have known each other for 33 years, been married for 32 of them. I played football at Iowa State and got a two-year graduate assistantship after I got my degree, in order to get my Master's in Education. I was dead-set on becoming a college football coach; it was all I had ever wanted since I was a young boy. That all changed one Sunday morning in the fall not long after the new school year had started. I was sitting in the student union, working on a research project, if I remember correctly, when this gorgeous petite redhead with the most beautiful-sounding laugh walked in, and for some reason decided to sit down at the table next to mine. I noticed from her textbooks that she was taking a class I'd had the year before; I needed almost a half-hour to get up the courage to offer her my notes from the class. Thankfully for the both of us, she accepted. She got an A in the class, too," he smiled proudly.

"Pam graduated the following May and we married a week later. I still had a year to go on my Master's program, so she got a job teaching at one of the elementary schools in Ames and I started putting out feelers about coaching opportunities to pretty much every four-year college in the Midwest. I was almost done with my Master's, but jobs were pretty scarce. That winter, Grace's mother had a stroke, and she spent a lot of time commuting between Ames and her hometown, taking care of her mom. Those few months were pretty rough for us. Pam is from St. Joseph, Missouri, and it was pretty exhausting for her, making the four-hour drive back and forth all the time. A week after classes wrapped up in May, I got a call from my former coach in Shenandoah, offering me a teaching and coaching job at the high school. Until that point, I had never even considered moving back home, working at my old school, but I'll tell you what, Wayne, as soon as Coach Connor got on the phone, I just knew it was the right thing for us. Shenandoah is a lot closer to St. Joe, and we had my parents nearby too. We moved three weeks later, and while our lives have had their ups and downs, I wouldn't have had it any other way."

Rigsby leaned against the counter, processing this story. "I hope Grace and I have as much success as you and Mrs. Van Pelt have, Rich. I love Grace very much. She is easily the best thing that ever happened to me."

Rich reached out to shake his hand. "I believe you, son. And I know just by watching my daughter when she's around you that she loves you as well. You'll have your moments; every couple does. Lord knows Pam and I have had a few rough patches. But I think the two of you are good for each other."

"Your support means a lot to me, sir," Rigsby replied as he squeezed his hand firmly.

"Just take good care of my little girl and you'll never have to worry about me." Rich stood, grabbed his plate of pie and moved to head back to the living room. "C'mon, let's catch the rest of the game."

Rigsby laughed at the abrupt change of subject. "You got it, Rich."

Two hours later

Rigsby's cell phone started buzzing loudly as he and Rich were debating what game to watch, with the Nebraska-Colorado tilt having wrapped up. Checking the caller ID, he realized it was Grace.

"Hey, what are you and your mom up to?"

Grace was out of breath as she responded. "We're downstairs in the parking lot, but we bought a lot of stuff and this Christmas tree is really heavy. Can you and Dad come down and help us out?"

"Of course, we'll be down in a second," he replied as he clicked the phone closed. "Looks like our help is needed downstairs, Rich."

"They need us to bring the tree upstairs, don't they?" Rigsby nodded. "All right then, let's go."

Twenty minutes later, they'd managed to unload Grace's SUV and her living room was now crowded full of bags and boxes of decorations. Grace was directing traffic, trying to decide how to rearrange her furniture to accommodate the tree, while helping her mother sort out lights, extension cords and ornaments.

"Grace, why on Earth did you not want to buy a pre-lit tree?" her mother asked exasperatedly.

"Because, Mom, stringing up the lights is half the fun!" Grace replied cheerily.

"Whatever you say, sweetheart."

Grace stood to survey her living room. The eight-foot tree was assembled, and Wayne and her dad had moved her overstuffed chair and reading lamp to the opposite side of the room, so the tree could be near an outlet. She handed three strands of lights over to her father. "Dad, can you start stringing up the lights for me? I think it's probably easier to get them on the tree, then move the tree over into the corner, right?"

"No problem, sweetheart. This way we won't end up tripping over all the cords, too." He knelt down and started methodically wrapping the lights around the bottom row of branches.

Out of the corner of her eye, Grace noticed Wayne sitting at her table, emptying her boxes of heirloom ornaments, examining each one carefully, turning it over delicately in his hands before setting each down on the table. He looked up sheepishly when he felt her gaze shift towards him.

"Sorry, I was just curious about what was in the boxes."

She sat down in the chair next to him and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Don't be sorry. Mom and Dad brought all these with them so I could keep them. Do you have any ornaments at home from when you were little?"

"A few, I think. Not nearly as many as you've got here, though. I'm sure there are plenty of stories to tell about all of them."

"Maybe a couple." She grinned, then her expression turned serious. "Maybe we could take a long weekend, drive down to Riverside sometime soon? You've met my parents, I think it might be a good idea for me to meet your mom."

"I- I don't know, Grace. She still lives in that house. I know you could handle it, I'm just not sure I'm ready for that yet."

"No rush. Just …. give it some thought, okay?" He nodded imperceptibly. Turning back to check on the tree, she gasped. "Wow, Dad's already got all the lights up, that has to be a new record."

"Ir's easier when I don't have a certain very picky someone telling me how to do it," Rich called back teasingly. "Now let's plug this sucker in, see how I did." He stuck the trailing plug into the power strip near the wall, and the room was flooded with the soft white glow of ten strands of Christmas lights.

"Great job, Dad," Grace cheered enthusiastically. Pam handed everyone a box of round glass ornaments. Wayne looked down at the box in his hand uncertainly. Seeing his confusion, Grace opened up the box in his hands and gave him a stack of ornament hooks. "This is our tree-decorating tradition. Everybody takes a box of ornaments, and we each take turns placing one on the tree. You're allowed to move one ornament per turn, if you think it should be in a different spot, but once you've moved that ornament, you can't touch it again. Got it?"

"Got it."

"Okay, so why don't you go first?" Wayne extracted a green ball from the box, searching for the perfect spot. He tucked the ball on the edge of a branch about halfway up the tree. After several rounds of ornament placement and relocation, he realized that the Van Pelts had a very strict tree-decorating philosophy: no two similar ornaments too close together, and all heavy ornaments towards the bottom of the tree. He was pleased to be part of what was clearly a tradition dear to their hearts.

Grace strode over to the table and picked up a box of heirloom ornaments. "Okay, now that all the generic ones are on the tree, it's time to break these out. I think we may not have room for all the rocking horses; Mom, what do you think?"

Pam peered into the box and did a quick tally of all the rocking horse ornaments. "I think you're right, Grace. There are sixteen of them, and even on a tree this big, we'll probably only be able to fit about half. Maybe we can display the rest of them somewhere else."

Grace separated out her favorites of the rocking horses and set the others aside. She handed out two each to her mother, father and boyfriend, and they returned to the task of filling in the tree. Almost two hours later, the empty boxes were packed away and the tree was filled to bursting with decorations both old and new.

"Looks like only one thing is missing," Grace mused as she reached into one of the bags. "Wayne, do you think you can reach the top of the tree?" she asked as she produced a silver star.

"Hand it over, missy." He needed to stand just on his tiptoes to reach the top of the tree, but managed to stick the star in place without knocking the whole mess over. "Ta-da!" he yelled with a flourish.

The Van Pelts all clapped appreciatively, prompting him to take a small bow. Grace looked down at her watch in surprise. "Wow, it's almost 8 and we haven't even eaten dinner. Who's hungry? Wayne, don't answer that!"

"What are you hungry for, Grace?" Pam inquired.

Grace chewed on her bottom lip for a minute, trying to decide. "There's a Chinese place over in Rosemont that I've been dying to try, if that's okay with everyone."

"That sounds fine, sweetheart. Give your mom and I a few minutes to freshen up and we'll be ready to go."

"Okay, Dad." She stepped back to admire the tree and felt a pair of strong arms snake around her waist. She reached up to flip her hair over her shoulder, granting him access to leave a trail of kisses from her neck up to her ear. "Did you have fun helping us trim the tree?"

"I did. Thanks for letting me help," he murmured as he nuzzled her neck.

"Thanks for helping," she whispered. Just as she was about to turn around and lean up for a kiss, her parents reappeared from the guest bedroom and the two jumped apart in shock. Both of Grace's parents burst out laughing.

"Did we interrupt something?" Pam teased.

"Um, maybe?" Grace responded, unsure of how her parents might react.

"Okay, well, you two carry on, we'll be downstairs in the car. If you're not there in five minutes, we're leaving without you," she replied as they walked out the door.

Wayne leaned down to pick up where they'd left off. "Your parents are really great," he said as he came back up for air.

"They like you a lot," she responded before scampering off to retrieve her purse and coat. Wayne gathered up his jacket and keys and paused for a minute, lost in thought as he stared at the Christmas tree and relived the events of the past two days.

"Wayne?" Grace called from her open doorway. "Ready to go?"

Her voice startled him out of his reverie and he followed her out the door. As she took his hand, leading him down the steps towards her car, one thought popped into his head.

_I could get used to being part of a family like this._


	11. Labor Day

_A/N: we're jumping back into the future for a couple of chapters for a very,, very special event in Wayne and Grace's future. This was originally going to be one big chapter, but it's getting so long that I had to break it up. The second half of this part of their story will post tomorrow._

* * *

_Monday, February 13, 6:30AM_

Rigsby's alarm clock beeped insistently for almost five full minutes on Monday morning before he reached a semi-conscious state, realizing that his wife was not in bed to shut off the clock. Confused, and more than a little bit concerned, he climbed out of bed, threw on slippers and a sweatshirt, and headed straight for the nursery. He found Grace sitting in the glider, rocking back and forth slowly, arms wrapped around her swollen belly, an expression of mild annoyance on her face. Grace was still two weeks from her due date, but with every passing day, she became more and more anxious about giving birth. He leaned against the doorframe and paused to observe her for a minute, mentally cataloging this moment of peace and quiet. Soon, their daughter would occupy this room and peace and quiet would go completely out the window.

Grace opened her eyes and smiled tiredly upon seeing her husband standing in the doorway. "Hey."

"Hey, sweetheart. Is everything okay? You had me worried for a minute there. You're supposed to be on maternity leave starting today, I figured you'd want to try to sleep in."

"I woke up a half-hour ago and couldn't get back to sleep. My back is killing me."

Rigsby strode across the room, reaching down to pull her up into his arms. Moving around so he was standing behind her, he began massaging her lower back gently. "Is this better?"

She arched backwards, resting her head on his shoulder and reaching behind her back to bring his hands to rest on her lower abdomen. "This isn't just regular back pain, honey."

She felt his entire body tense up, clutching her tightly as the implications of her statement sunk in. "Contractions?" he asked nervously. She nodded, squeezing his hands reassuringly. "How long has that been going on?"

"Probably since last night, right before I went to bed. I just thought it was Lucy moving around, but the pain has gotten more frequent. I'm going to call Dr. Grossman's office in a couple of hours."

"Do you want me to call Lisbon, tell her I'm not coming in today?"

She turned around so they were face-to-face, leaning up on her tiptoes to kiss him. "You should go ahead and go in to work. I promise I'll call you after I talk to Dr. Grossman, but she'll probably tell me that we won't need to go to the hospital until the contractions get much closer together." She reached up to stroke his face lovingly, trying to ease the worry lines that were developing on his forehead. "Wayne, I promise, I will call you as soon as I know anything. My bag is all packed and sitting downstairs in the hall closet. The car seat is installed in my car. Everything is going to be fine."

Rigsby knelt down and kissed her belly just below her navel. "Lucy, do Daddy a favor please and stay put for just a little bit longer, okay, baby girl?" he whispered. Grace ran her hands through the hair at the nape of his neck and pulled him back up to a standing position. "I can't believe this is actually happening."

"Please try to relax and not worry too much, okay? You may want to warn Lisbon that you won't be coming in tomorrow, though."

He grinned excitedly. "I promise I'll try to keep it together. Is there anything you need me to do before I head in to the office?"

She shook her head no. "I'm going to head back to bed and lay down for a little while. Dr. G's office doesn't open until 8:30, so I'll call her later this morning. Go, get ready for work," she admonished as she pushed him towards the door.

Less than an hour later, he was out of the shower and fully dressed. Grace was propped up against what he had jokingly started referring to a few weeks before as her "nest" of pillows, sound asleep. He headed downstairs to fix some breakfast and a cup of coffee, placing two plates of toast and two glasses of orange juice on a TV tray, which he carefully toted back upstairs. The movement of the mattress as he sat down next to her woke Grace up, and she smiled broadly at her husband's thoughtfulness.

"You didn't have to bring me breakfast," she teased.

"I figured you'd be hungry. Besides, this is probably going to be the last meal we have for a while where it's just the two of us." He plucked one of the glasses of juice off the tray, handing it over, and raised his coffee mug in a toast. "I love you so much, Grace, and I can't believe we're finally going to meet our little girl soon."

They clinked glasses. "I'll drink to that." She was barely able to down a sip of her juice before she gripped Rigsby's free hand tightly and her face contorted into a grimace. "Ow, ow, ow, ooooooooooooh," she hissed as she tried to focus on her breathing exercises.

"Grace, are you sure you don't want me to stay home today?"

She brought their clasped hands to her mouth and kissed the back of his hand gratefully. "Honey, we would be driving each other crazy if you stayed home today. Until it's time to head to the hospital, and I suspect that won't be until later tonight at the earliest, at work is where I need you to be."

Rigsby regarded his wife with equal measures of relief and skepticism, but decided not to press the issue. She was right that he would be a nervous wreck all day if he stayed home, but on the other hand, he wanted to be able to leave the house immediately once it was time to head to the hospital. Seeing as he wasn't the one currently in labor, however, he figured this was a decision best left to Grace. She swallowed the last of her toast, washing it down with juice, and pushed the tray back across the bed. Sitting up gingerly, she reached over to grab his tie and tugged him forward for a kiss.

"I love you. Now get."

* * *

Rigsby arrived at the office five minutes before nine, and paused briefly in the breakroom only to leave his lunch in the refrigerator. He acknowledged the members of his team with terse nods and made a beeline straight for his office, where he holed up catching up on paperwork for a solid three and a half hours, emerging at lunchtime only after confirming that the rest of the office was empty. He was so tightly wound that he didn't want to risk snapping at one of his colleagues or subordinates unnecessarily. Unfortunately, he didn't count on running into Lisbon in the breakroom.

"Wayne?" she asked, startling him so badly that he hit his head on the fridge. "Sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. Is everything okay? You've been hiding in your office all morning, everyone's worried."

Rigsby reached up to determine if a knot was developing on the back of his head. "Sorry, boss, I've just had … a lot on my mind this morning. I didn't mean for everyone to freak out."

Lisbon's hands flew to her mouth as she quickly put two and two together. "Grace is in labor, isn't she? You jackass," she yelled as she punched him in the arm, "what are you doing here? You should be at home!"

"Grace specifically instructed me to be anywhere BUT home today. Believe me, I offered, but it's still early. I talked to her about a half-hour ago and her contractions are still about 15 minutes apart. She talked to her doctor earlier this morning, and she doesn't want to see us at the hospital until the contractions are less than 10 minutes apart, or Grace's water breaks, whichever comes first."

Lisbon relaxed, relieved that she wasn't unwittingly keeping one of her agents from his wife when he needed her. "Fine. You are officially on desk duty for the rest of the day, however. If Grace calls you, you just go, no questions asked. Got it?"

"Understood, boss."

The remainder of the day passed by very slowly. Lisbon sent every batch of paperwork that crossed her desk Rigsby's way, in an effort to keep him occupied and distracted, but it only went so far. All of the junior agents on both Rigsby's and Cho's teams had been sent out on routine field calls, so the office was quiet. Lisbon poked her head into his office around five-thirty. "Wayne, I don't have any more paperwork I can throw your way," she said, almost apologetically. "Pack up, go home. I assume that I won't be seeing you tomorrow, and I'll have all your paternity leave paperwork ready to submit in the morning. You only have five days, unfortunately. Are you going to use any of your PTO time next week?"

Rigsby shut down his computer and started rapidly stuffing away case files, anxiety starting to roll of him in waves. "Honestly, boss, Grace and I hadn't really discussed it yet. Her mom is probably going to come in this weekend, so they might want me out of the house. Can I get back to you on that?"

"Of course. Just let me know sometime before the end of the week." She was about to turn around and head back to her office, but stepped back instead to give him a big hug. "Wayne, everything is going to be fine. Give Grace a hug for me, okay? Good luck."

Rigsby returned the hug, grateful for the support. "Will do. Thanks, boss. I'll call you in the morning."

_6PM_

Rigsby pulled into the driveway exactly a half-hour later, running up the front steps and throwing the door open before he'd even really registered that it was unlocked. To his surprise, Grace was pacing in the foyer, breathing heavily and rubbing her back constantly with one hand. Her overnight bag and the bag of snacks they'd packed just a few days earlier were conspicuously sitting right next to the door.

"Wayne, you have exactly ten minutes to go upstairs and change clothes," she instructed in between deep breaths.

"Grace, honey, what's going on?"

"Short version, my water broke ten minutes ago. I just got off the phone with the admissions desk at UC Med Center, Dr. G's office has already called them and they're expecting us by 6:30."

"Why didn't you call me?"

Grace reached up to cup his cheeks, trying to get him to focus on the task at hand. "Because Lisbon called to check in and let me know that you were already on your way home. No sense in you getting pulled over, or worse, because you were trying to get here that much faster. Now please, go upstairs and change."

He kissed her quickly and bolted for their upstairs bedroom. Five minutes later, he'd dumped his suit, dress shirt and tie into the laundry and was tugging on a pair of jeans and a long-sleeved t-shirt. He grabbed his jacket off the desk chair and skipped the stairs two at a time to get back downstairs. He grabbed both bags and ushered her out to the car. Once they were both settled in, Rigsby took a deep breath and turned to face his wife. "Is this really happening? We're really having a baby?"

Grace leaned over as best she could and gestured for him to meet her in the middle. "Yes, sweetheart, we're really having a baby," she replied as she kissed him tenderly. "Now please get the car started so we can get to the hospital!"


	12. Baby Makes Three

_A/N: I'm getting this part in just under the wire, but this half of the story was so long, I even had to cut out one part I was hoping to leave in. To all those moms who may be reading this, please accept my apologies for taking some, shall we say, creative license with the childbirth process. I hope you all enjoy this chapter anyway! - aml_

* * *

A little more than two hours later, Grace had gone through the triage process, was officially admitted and settled into their birthing room. Wayne was busy stashing bottles of water and Gatorade in the mini-fridge and sorting through energy bars and Tootsie Pops when the Labor and Delivery nurse, a tall, energetic woman named Susan who they had previously met on their tour of the facility, popped in to check on them.

"Hi Wayne, Grace," she said brightly, reaching for the clipboard with Grace's paperwork from its slot on the wall, and making a note on the dry-erase board of the time she checked in. "I'm just looking over your triage paperwork here, all your vitals look good, you're about six centimeters dilated and your contractions are still about seven minutes apart, is that right?"

Grace nodded vigorously as she breathed through another contraction.

Susan regarded her patient somewhat skeptically as she reviewed the remainder of the forms. "Grace, your birth plan says that you don't want medication unless absolutely necessary, is that still the case?"

"I want to do this without drugs if at all possible."

Susan made some more notes. "Okay, no drugs. Dr. Grossman is with another patient at the moment, but she'll be in to examine you fairly soon; we're going to hook you up to a fetal heart monitor for about 20 minutes or so, but if everything continues to progress normally, you won't have to keep it on if you don't want to. I would recommend getting up and walking around occasionally if you feel up to it; it will help take your focus off the pain, and frankly, gravity is going to help keep the baby moving better than anything else you can do right now. Hit that call button if you need us for anything, okay?" She put away the clipboard and headed back out towards the nurses' station.

Wayne set an unopened bottle of Gatorade, a straw and three Tootsie Pops on the nightstand, ready at a moment's notice. "Sounds like we're in hurry up and wait mode, aren't we?" he asked as he left a series of kisses along her forehead. "What do you need me to do right now, babe?"

"Can you adjust the bed so I can sit up?" Once they'd tinkered with the bed and found a comfortable spot, she gestured for her duffel bag. "I need my slipper socks and my back massager too, please." Wayne dug through the bag for the slippers and tugged them over her bare feet. "Oh, that's much better, it is so cold in here."

"Do you want your hoodie too?" he queried as he reached around and started rolling the back massager up and down her spine, then side-to-side along her lower back.

"Not right now, but maybe my bathrobe if we decide to walk around a little bit later. These hospital gowns are so ridiculous. I don't understand why they don't have buttons or velcro or something down the front to make nursing easier."

Rigsby had to bite the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing out loud. Leave it to Grace, ever practical, to be thinking of ways to improve the birthing process while in the middle of labor. He leaned forward, pulling her braid over one shoulder, to kiss her neck. "Maybe you can design one, honey. We'll make a fortune off it."

Grace laughed too, acknowledging the mild absurdity in her statement. "Once this is all over, I'll think about it."

Dr. Grossman chose that exact moment to walk in, in the middle of tugging on a fresh pair of hospital scrubs. "Laughter in the middle of labor, that's something you don't hear every day. How are we doing tonight?"

"So far, so good, I think," Grace replied breathlessly as Dr. Grossman pulled up a stool to the foot of the bed. Her physical examination was brief and she rolled across the room to enter information into a laptop. "Well, Grace, the good news is that you're dilated to seven centimeters already, which means that you're progressing normally. The bad news is that you're still not quite there yet. I think it may be a couple more hours before you're ready to start pushing, and the phase in between now and then can be pretty rough going. Are you sure you don't want any medication?"

"No drugs," she replied stubbornly while breathing through a contraction.

"Okay. You can go ahead and lie back now, Susan is going to set up the fetal monitor. It's going to be a little uncomfortable, but we're hopefully only going to have to do this once and only for a half-hour or so. We're just going to take baseline measurements right now, and we'll be back to check in a little later."

Susan was in the middle of setting up the equipment as Dr. Grossman was explaining the process, and once she flipped the switch, both Wayne and Grace immediately turned toward the monitor, fascinated by the rhythmic beeps. Neither of them noticed both the doctor and the nurse quietly exiting the room.

Wayne rested his head on the pillow next to Grace. "You're doing such a great job," he murmured. "What can I do to make this easier for you?"

"Hmmm. Maybe some music would be good? We packed the iPod, right?"

"Yep, let me dig it out of the bag. What do you want to listen to?"

"Surprise me."

"Okay," he replied as he connected the iPod to the CD player in the room and fiddled with the settings.

The opening bars of Harry Connick Jr.'s rendition of "It Had to Be You" soon wafted through the room. Grace started laughing so hard she almost didn't notice the onset of another contraction.

"You cheeseball, you picked that on purpose!"

Wayne grinned. "I promise you, I didn't. The iPod did." Sitting back down at her bedside, he clasped her free hand between his palms. "This waiting thing is hard."

"Tell me about it. At least you don't have to deal with feeling like the wind is being knocked out of you and your abdomen is being squeezed in a vice grip every three to five minutes."

"Baby, if I could do this for you, believe me, I would," he mumbled, in between kissing each of her knuckles.

"I know you would," she replied as tears started to trickle down her face.

Concerned by her abrupt change in mood, Rigsby turned to check the printout from the monitor to see if her contractions were getting more intense. She squeezed his hand to divert his attention back to her. "I'm fine, honey."

"You're not fine, Grace," he replied worriedly as he wiped the tear tracks away. "What's wrong?"

"It's silly."

"Tell me anyway. Please?"

"I was just thinking about your mom. That she won't get to know her granddaughter."

Rigsby kissed the back of her hand. "I know. I was thinking about that the other day, too. Even though we weren't always close, I know she would have made a wonderful grandmother. I'm sure your parents will pick up the slack in spoiling Lucy, though. And it's not like she won't know my side of the family at all, since Gran and Granddad are living in San Diego now. We'll go down and visit them this summer, right?"

"Right," she agreed as she leaned up to give her husband a kiss.

They were interrupted by the return of both Susan and Dr. Grossman, who cleared her throat just loudly enough to announce their presence. "I hate to break up this party, but we need to check the monitor, then we'll unhook you and leave you two lovebirds alone."

Five minutes later, she was removing the sensors while Susan was making notes on Grace's chart. "Okay, Grace, everything looks good so far. I'll be back in two hours to check in again. By that point, your contractions should be no more than five minutes apart. If they get closer to three minutes apart, have Susan page me."

"Got it, Dr. G."

Susan remained in the room. "Grace, you've been stuck in bed for most of the last three hours or so, do you want to try getting up and walking around a little bit?"

"Yeah, I think that would be a good idea. Honey, can you grab my bathrobe please, and the Gatorade?" Susan helped Grace climb off the bed and steady herself on her feet, while Wayne wrapped her up in her bathrobe and offered up the requested beverage.

They spent more than an hour walking up and down the hall, occasionally pausing for Grace to ride out a particularly intense contraction and peeking into the nursery once or twice. Rigsby noticed by about 10:30 that her energy was definitely starting to flag and steered her back to the room and into bed. As she climbed back onto the bed, she carefully turned over onto her right side and patted the bed behind her, so he climbed up, spooning with her, one arm draped over her belly, just as if they'd been at home. She relaxed into a fitful sleep, while he tried to make her more comfortable by constantly massaging her back and softly singing along to the songs playing from the iPod.

Dr. Grossman returned at about 11:30, tapping Wayne gently on the shoulder to get his attention. "How long has she been asleep?"

He sat up, climbing off the bed. "About an hour," he replied groggily, rubbing his eyes. "She isn't sleeping very well, though. Her contractions are about four minutes apart, I think, and I can tell they're getting stronger. She's almost broken my hand a couple of times trying to get through them."

"That's not unusual. She should be at about nine centimeters by this point, so her contractions are going to be pretty irregular. She's going to need you to help her get through this last part, but it should be over pretty quickly." She walked around to the opposite side of the bed to gently prod Grace awake.

"Grace? I know this is not what you want to hear, but I need you to sit up for a couple minutes so I can examine you."

"Okay," she mumbled tiredly as Wayne helped her pull herself up to a sitting position, patting her face with a damp washcloth. "Honey, can you get me a bottle of water, or Gatorade or something? My throat is really dry and I feel like I'm about to throw up."

"The nausea is totally normal, Grace," Dr. Grossman interjected. "How are you feeling otherwise?"

"Exhausted," she replied with a rueful laugh. "The contractions are about three minutes apart. Not quite feeling like pushing yet, though."

"That's a good thing. We're going to get to that part within an hour or so. This is the least fun part, but you're doing great. Just keep drinking fluids like you've been doing so far. The contractions are going to space out a little bit once you're fully dilated; I'll be back in a half-hour and if you start feeling the urge to push before then, have the nurses page me ASAP."

"We will. Thanks, doc," Wayne replied as he handed over a bottle of water to Grace. She leaned back and downed almost the entire bottle in one go.

"I don't know how much longer I can do this, Wayne," she spit out between deep breaths. "Everything hurts."

"I know it does, babe, but you've made it this far, and just like Dr. G said, another hour or so and this is all going to be over. I know you can get through this, and I'm going to be right here, the whole way. And you know what?" he asked as he pointed to his watch. "It's after midnight. We're going to have a Valentine's Day baby. We'll never have to get each other Valentine's Day gifts again!" he exclaimed excitedly as he tucked stray wisps of hair away from her face and peppered her with kisses.

Grace couldn't help but laugh. "You're right about that. After having a baby, pretty much any other celebration would pale in comparison."

"You and Lucy are the best gifts any man could ask for, hands down."

"I'm going to make a note of that to remind you the first time you start complaining about getting woken up for 2AM feedings," she retorted. Her grin contorted quickly into a grimace as she rode out another particularly intense contraction, squeezing Wayne's hand so tightly that he was afraid his fingers were going to go numb. "Oh, that was the worst one yet. Wayne, hit the call button so we can get Susan in here, I think we need to have her page Dr. G."

Wayne did as instructed and Susan popped into the room within thirty seconds. "Hey Grace, does that call mean what I think it means?"

"If you think it means that my body is telling me to push this baby out, then yes!" she shouted.

Susan poked her head out the door and called to the nurses' station to page Dr. Grossman. "Okay Grace, do not push until Dr. Grossman gets here and confirms that you're fully dilated. I know that's going to be a little difficult, but I need you to focus on just breathing through the contractions right now. Wayne, we let you get away with not wearing scrubs long enough, but now that we're at the actual delivery stage, you need to put these on, please." She tossed a pair of scrubs and a cap in his direction, which he promptly tugged on over his clothes. Susan busied herself arranging all the potentially necessary equipment, and pulled the bassinet, a scale and the laptop Dr. Grossman had been using earlier closer to Grace's bedside.

"Did somebody call for me?" Dr. Grossman asked cheerily a few minutes later.

"You said to page you if I started feeling the urge to push, so here we are," Grace replied.

Dr. Grossman settled on the stool at the foot of the bed. "All right, Grace, I need you to sit up and scoot down to the edge of the bed for me, feet in the stirrups please. You're at ten centimeters, so as soon as you feel the next contraction coming on, I want you to take a deep breath and just continuously exhale all the way through the contraction while you're bearing down. Can you do that for me?"

Grace bit her lower lip nervously, tears starting to leak out of the corners of her eyes again. "I think so," she replied uncertainly.

Wayne wrapped one arm firmly around her shoulders, tightening his grip on her right hand as he leaned closely to whisper his encouragement. "Baby, you can do this. Just follow your instincts and remember that I am right here. Whatever you need me to do, name it."

"Just keep talking to me," she pleaded. "I need to focus on your voice."

"I can do that," he replied, and continued talking softly to her, spouting encouragement, sweet nothings, and the occasional bad joke as the minutes wore on. After almost a half hour and ten pushes, Grace's pain-induced frustration was quickly morphing into full-blown panic.

"Wayne," she shrieked in between pants, "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"You're doing just fine, Grace," Dr. Grossman interrupted. "Just a couple more pushes, I promise."

"You heard the doc, Grace, just keep at it," he murmured, trying simultaneously to keep his own nervousness at bay and ignore the searing pain in his hand from the pressure his wife was putting on it as she pushed through another contraction.

"She's crowning, Grace. I think two more pushes should do it."

Five minutes later, the music from the iPod was overtaken by the throaty wail of Wayne and Grace's baby girl. Grace slumped back onto the bed in relief after hearing her daughter's cry, while Wayne was busy staring in total fascination at the squirming, pink bundle in the doctor's hands.

"Congratulations, you two. You have a healthy daughter." Dr. Grossman motioned Wayne over and handed him a pair of surgical scissors. "Dad, you want to go ahead and cut the umbilical cord?" Seeing his hesitation, she reassured him. "She won't feel a thing, promise." Once the cord was severed, she handed the baby over to the nurse. "Okay, she has to go through a couple of quick tests, so Susan's going to take over here."

Rigsby rushed back to his wife's side, leaving kisses on every inch of her face. "Grace, you are so amazing, I can't believe you did that. I love you so much."

She returned his kisses in between sobs. "Is she okay?"

"She's perfect. Ten fingers, ten toes, a button nose just like her mommy's and one very good set of lungs. I'm going to grab the camera and take some pictures, okay?"

Wayne retrieved their digital camera and walked quietly over to the area where Susan was taking measurements and making notes on a brand-new chart.

"Take as many pictures as you like, dad, you aren't in my way at all." Turning back to the baby as she prepared to give her eye drops, she cooed, "Hey, little one, can you smile for your daddy?"

Wayne busily snapped pictures while Susan walked him through the next steps in the process. "The eye drops are antibiotics, to make sure she doesn't get an infection from the amniotic fluid. She'll need her first immunizations too, but we'll do those after she nurses, no sense in upsetting her before feeding time. Her one minute Apgar score was an eight, which is very good. Next thing we're going to do is record her height and weight." She carefully scooped Lucy up and placed her on a digital scale. "Seven and a half pounds even, and she's just shy of 20 inches long. All leg, this one is," she teased as she tickled one of her feet. Susan retrieved a blank ID bracelet from the table and began filling in the relevant information. "Does she have a name yet?"

Grace was the one who replied. "Lucy Charlotte."

"Lucy Charlotte Rigsby," Susan repeated as she filled in the bracelet and wrapped it around Lucy's tiny wrist. "Born 12:55AM, Tuesday, February 14th. Quite the Valentine's Day gift. Okay, kiddo, time for your five-minute test. Pulse is good, color is good, respiratory functions, very good-" Wayne and Grace both chuckled at that comment, as Lucy hadn't stopped squalling yet- "reflexes are good, she's a nine." Susan proceeded to wrap her loosely in a blanket, plucking her up out of the bassinet. "Wayne, are you ready to hold your daughter?"

He glanced back at Grace nervously; she smiled reassuringly and nodded. "Ready as I'm going to be, I guess."

"Just make sure you're supporting her head and neck in the crook of your elbow, right there," she instructed as she placed Lucy in his arms. "See, you're a natural. Hang on, let me get a picture here." Lucy instinctively shifted closer to his chest as she settled down.

"Hi, Lucy," he whispered softly as tears started to stream down his cheeks. "I'm your daddy." Wayne's grin was so wide and bright it could have lit up the entire room on its own.

Cradling her head gently in one palm and her lower body in his other hand, he lifted her up carefully to study his baby girl, bringing her face close to his so he could plant gentle kisses on her cheeks, forehead and nose, triggering a bout of baby sneezes. Grace burst into a fit of giggles at the shock on her husband's face, earning a very brief glare. "I think you're probably going to need to shave before you do that again, honey," she chided as she waved him over, shifting around so there was room for the both of them on the bed. Wayne settled Lucy on his shoulder, walking over to the bed and settling in behind Grace. "Okay, beautiful, I'm gonna give you to your mama now," he whispered, placing her on Grace's chest, then wrapping his arms carefully around her middle, cuddling both of his girls and nuzzling Grace's neck as they admired the newest member of their family.

"Look at what we made, Wayne," Grace whispered as she fought back tears. One of Lucy's hands reached out from under the blanket to wrap tightly around the tip of Grace's index finger. "We have a baby. What are we going to do with her?"

Wayne laughed at the slight hint of panic in his wife's voice. "We'll spoil her rotten, of course. We'll take her home, and show her lots of love, maybe give her a brother or sister eventually?" he asked hopefully.

"Eventually," Grace agreed as she leaned down to kiss her daughter's tiny fingers. The three of them snuggled together quietly, trading Lucy off between them, noting her beautiful blue eyes, complete lack of hair and perfectly round cheeks, smothering her tiny face with kisses and nuzzles. They were interrupted by the arrival of a new nurse.

"Hi everyone, my name is Shelley," she introduced herself cheerily, making notes on the dry erase board and on both charts. "I'm on shift for the next twelve hours. It's about quarter to two, so Grace, I think this might be a good time to try nursing if you're feeling up to it."

Grace looked down, tracing her finger along Lucy's cheek and jostling her in her arms to wake her up. "Yeah, I think we can give this a try."

Wayne sat up, kissing Grace's shoulder before moving off the bed. "Honey, do you want me to stay, or no?"

Grace smiled apologetically. "I think maybe it will be easier at first if it's just the two of us? Could you call Mom and Dad, and Ali and Rob, to pass along the news?"

Wayne grimaced at the notion of waking up his in-laws. "Your parents are going to kill me for waking them up this early."

"They'd be more angry if they found out we waited a couple of hours to call."

Unable to argue that point, Wayne kissed his wife and daughter, then headed down the hall to the waiting area, where cell phone use was allowed. Sitting on one of the couches, he hit speed dial #6 on his phone. Grace's parents answered simultaneously.

"Wayne, what's going on? Is Grace in labor already?" Pam asked groggily.

"No, Pam. it's already over. She had the baby about an hour ago. You have a granddaughter named Lucy." He could hear both of Grace's parents crying on the other end of the phone and began to choke up again himself. "She's amazing, you guys. Grace went through the whole process without drugs. She's nursing Lucy right now and they're both doing great."

"We can't wait to see her."

"I'll send you pictures later this morning after we've all had some sleep. We're going to be here until Wednesday night, at least, so I'll have Grace call you sometime in the afternoon if that's okay?"

"That's fine, Wayne. Give everybody lots of hugs and kisses for us. Get some rest. I'll see you sometime this weekend."

"Sounds good, Pam. I know Grace is looking forward to having you here."

Pam chuckled throatily. "We'll see how she feels about that once the three of us are tripping all over each other."

"You're probably right about that. I'm gonna let you guys get back to sleep, I have to call Ali and Rob, too."

"We'll see you all soon, Wayne. Give Grace and Lucy our love," Pam replied before she hung up the phone with a soft click.

His next call was to Grace's best friend from home, Alison Jones, at her home in Milwaukee. She picked up on the third ring. "Hello?" she asked, half-asleep and clearly confused.

"Ali, it's Wayne. I'm sorry to call you so early and wake you up, but Grace insisted."

"Wayne?" she shrieked. "What time is it? Are you at the hospital? Is Grace okay?!"

"Ali, calm down. It's about 2:15 here. Grace had the baby about an hour ago. It's a girl." Wayne had to hold the phone six inches from his ear, her screams of joy were so ear-splitting. He could hear Ali's husband, Rob, admonishing her to pipe down as she explained why she was awake at such an ungodly hour.

"What's her name? Is she a redhead like her mom?"

"Her name is Lucy Charlotte, and she doesn't have any hair at the moment, so we have no idea if she's going to be a redhead or not. I kind of hope so, but we probably won't know for a while. Grace is nursing her right now."

"I'm so happy for you two," she said in between sniffles. "You are in for the ride of your lives."

"It's crazy, Ali, Lucy's barely an hour old and I already can't imagine what our lives were like without her."

"It only gets better from here, I promise. You'll let us know when you set a date for her baptism, right?"

"We'll make sure it's after tax season, Grace would not want to have it without you guys there." As accountants, this accomodation was a big deal for them.

"We appreciate it. Go, get some sleep, bud. Send us pictures in the morning, and give Grace and Lucy our love."

"Will do."

Wayne returned to the room to find his wife half-asleep, still nursing Lucy. Pulling a chair over the edge of the bed, he sat down, resting his head on her free shoulder, mesmerized by the sight of mother and daughter bonding in such a tangible way.

"You're staring," she mumbled, eyes still half-closed.

"I know," he replied, trying to sound suitably chastened, but failing miserably. "I can't help it, though. It's just …this is the most amazing thing that you can do for her, Grace. Am I weirding you out?"

She reached up with her free hand to cup his chin and tilt his head up for a kiss. "As long as you're not distracting Lucy, you can watch all you want. Just wake me up when she's done, okay?"

"Okay."

* * *

_Tuesday, 11AM_

Wayne returned to the hospital after getting sent home early in the morning to get some uninterrupted sleep, shower and change clothes. He took a little extra time to upload pictures onto his laptop, and emailed the best ones out with her official birth announcement. His cell phone had not stopped ringing since; he'd been forced to set the ringer to mute so he wouldn't get caught bringing it with him into the room. When he arrived, Grace was trying to settle down a very fussy baby, and his phone started vibrating insistently on his belt as he set down all the gear she'd asked him to bring from the house.

"Honey, thank God you're back," she exclaimed in frustration. "Can you take Lucy for a second, see if she'll calm down for you? She started fussing after she finished nursing and I have tried everything I can think of," she wailed, nearing tears.

Wayne leaned down to kiss Grace reassuringly and extracted Lucy from her arms. "I'll trade you phone for baby. This thing's been ringing off the hook since I sent out the email with her birth announcement." He started rubbing his knuckles gently up and down Lucy's spine, talking to her softly. "Hey, Peanut, what's with all the fussing?"

Grace grabbed the phone off his belt, checking the caller ID. Noticing that it was Lisbon, she answered. "Hey, boss. No, you didn't get the wrong phone, you called Wayne's phone. He has his hands full at the moment. Apparently Lucy missed her daddy." Wayne winked at her conspiratorially, and she smiled gratefully in return. "Yeah, we'd love to have you stop by. Is there anything you can bring?" - she mouthed to Wayne, _do you want Lisbon to bring lunch?_ he shook his head no - "Wayne's fine, but if you happen to pass by an In-N-Out on the way, would you mind bringing me a chocolate shake? They don't serve ice cream here at the hospital, unless you're here for a tonsillectomy. Thanks, boss, we'll see you soon."

Wayne sat at the foot of the bed, holding a now-sleeping baby. "Is everything okay, Grace? Are you sure you're all right with having Lisbon come by to visit? I don't want you to get stressed out," he asked worriedly.

"I'm just tired, honey. She said she wouldn't be here for at least an hour, so maybe we could get in a nap? I think I'll feel better after I've had some sleep. C'mere," she waved him over to lie down next to her.

* * *

Lisbon arrived at the hospital a little after noon, chocolate shake in one hand, congratulatory cards from the team in the other. She was directed to the maternity ward on the fourth floor, then pointed to Grace's room by a helpful nurse. She paused outside the room, regarding the large pink stork standup on the wall with amusement, before tentatively knocking on the door and poking her head in. Wayne, Grace and Lucy were all asleep, nestled together on the bed, and Lisbon, knowing a Kodak moment when she saw one, dug into her bag for her camera. Snapping a couple of quick pictures, she scribbled a brief note, indicating that she'd be back to visit after work, leaving the note, the shake and the cards on the table next to the bed.

* * *

_Tuesday, 2/21, 8AM_

Wayne snuck into the office early on his first day back from paternity leave, wanting to get through what was undoubtedly going to be a huge backlog of emails as quickly as possible. Before he had a chance to start up his computer, however, he noticed a small rectangular box on his desk, wrapped in shiny pink paper. A small card was attached, with a note from Lisbon:

_Wayne - _

_I took this picture the first time I stopped by the hospital. You guys looked so tired I didn't have the heart to wake you up, but I know a photo op when I see it. Thought you might like to have it on your desk. Congratulations, Dad._

_-Lisbon_

Ripping off the wrapping paper, he extracted a silver picture frame from the box. Inside the frame was a black-and-white print of himself, Grace and Lucy snuggled up together on Grace's hospital bed, fast asleep. He set the frame down next to a photo from their wedding, noticing the engraving at the bottom of the frame.

_2/14/2012_

… _and baby makes three_


	13. Parenthood

A/N: I apologize to those readers who were expecting the next chapter of this story to be about Wayne and Grace's engagement; I know I said that's where we'd go next, but this chunk of the story was originally intended to be included in chapter 12, and I had to cut it because the darn thing was running too long as-is. However, I liked some of these character beats too much to let go of them completely, so consider this a "deleted scene," if you will, from _Baby Makes Three_. - aml

* * *

Rigsby woke up after about an hour; he hadn't needed quite as much rest as Grace did, even though he'd been awake for each of Lucy's overnight feedings. Reaching up to brush her hair out of her face, he felt Grace stir as she tried to find a more comfortable sleeping position. The movement unfortunately woke Lucy, who started flailing inside her blanket cocoon, grabbing at her mother's hospital gown, seconds away from a full-on crying jag. He scrambled out from behind Grace as gracefully as possible, trying to not wake both mother and daughter, prying Lucy's tiny fingers off Grace's clothes before settling her into his arms. In that moment, he understood Grace's earlier frustration and borderline panic when Lucy had been fussing. He nestled Lucy high up on his shoulder so they were cheek-to-cheek, cupping her head protectively as he whispered in her ear soothingly while pacing the room.

Lucy had been sleeping soundly for about ten minutes when Grace startled awake, slightly panicked at the realization that she was now in bed by herself.

"Wayne? Where's Lucy?"

Rigsby was standing near the window, looking out onto the courtyard below, and Grace didn't register at first that Lucy was safely ensconced in her father's arms. She visibly relaxed, flopping back onto the bed when he turned around and she saw Lucy sleeping. Concerned, he sat on the edge of the bed, kissing Lucy tenderly on her temple before handing her back over to her mother. "She's fine, Grace. She was threatening to go into meltdown mode a few minutes ago and I didn't want to wake you. You need your rest."

"I know. Thank you, honey," she replied tearfully. "I just freaked out a little bit there, I guess."

He reached up to wipe away the tears streaking down her cheeks. "Grace, I know you aren't wild about the idea, but are you sure that you don't want Lucy to stay in the nursery tonight, just so you can get a full night's sleep? I hate seeing you so stressed out like this."

She covered his hand with hers, turning to kiss his palm. "I'll think about it, okay? I just … I'm afraid if I let her go, even for a couple of hours, I'll miss something. That we'll miss something."

He smiled, chuckling to himself slightly. "She's twelve hours old, Grace, I'm not sure there's much to miss yet."

"I know. I just don't know if I can do it yet. Let someone else take care of her. But I promise I'll think about it," she reiterated as she kissed his palm again. Out of the corner of her eye, she finally noticed the milkshake, cards and note on the table next to her bed. "Honey, can you grab all that stuff off the table? Looks like Lisbon stopped by while we were asleep."

Wayne handed over the milkshake and opened up the note. "Yep, she was here a little while ago. Her note says she'll try to come by after work instead. Looks like these cards are from the rest of the team." Slitting each of the envelopes open, he set down the cards on the table after reading them, and ended up with a stack of gift cards in his hands. "Wow, we got gift cards from a whole bunch of restaurants, that was really thoughtful of everyone."

Grace rocked Lucy in her arms, trying to coax her back to sleep. "We probably have a bunch of casseroles in the freezer at the house, too. Fitz asked what she and the team could do to help us out, and I asked her specifically to bring food, because I don't know when or if we're going to have time to cook once we get home, at least until we all get settled. Mom will probably make a bunch of stuff when she gets in to town, too."

"Speaking of your mom, I told her and Ali we'd call them sometime this afternoon. Also, they told me to give you both this," he declared as he scooped Grace up off the bed, settling her into his lap and gathering them up in a big bear hug. Grace giggled, leaning up for a kiss, which was promptly interrupted by their daughter's angry wail. Laughing, they both looked down and pecked her on each cheek.

"Do you think you can handle her on your own for a half-hour or so?" Grace teased as she shifted the baby from her arms to his.

"Of course. We'll have some good father-daughter time. You going to try to get in some more rest?"

She slid off the bed and started rummaging around in her bag, removing a bath towel, flip flops, shampoo, a tank top and her favorite nightshirt. "Nope. I'm going to take a shower. I feel so grimy and sweaty, and I just want to feel clean for a little while. Plus I need to move around a little bit, all this being stuck in bed is making me stiff."

"Holler if you need anything!" he called as she disappeared into the bathroom. Settling into the rocking chair situated near the window, he shifted Lucy so she was supported by his forearms, her head cradled carefully in both hands, elbows resting on his knees. Rigsby took the quiet time to truly study his daughter for the first time since she was barely five minutes old. He marveled at the resemblances already starting to emerge – he'd been right about her having Grace's perky nose, but her wide-set eyes and perfectly oval-shaped face could have come straight out of his own baby pictures, copies of which he'd received from his grandparents when he'd informed them of Grace's pregnancy. He strongly suspected that her eyes, which were currently a deep blue, would eventually fade to a light hazel that could be either gray or blue, depending on the day, and that her hair, while nonexistent at the moment, would shift from dark brown to jet black as she grew older; she'd be a raven-haired beauty. Carefully balancing her in his lap, he reached up to wipe away fresh tears streaking down his face.

"Lucy, I don't think I've cried this much in a long time. I promise I'm not usually this emotional. I just can't believe this is actually real. I'm afraid someone is going to come up and pinch me and this is all going to disappear, that I'll wake up and this will have just been an amazing dream. Until this morning, marrying your mother was the best thing that ever happened to me. And now we have you, and I just don't know if I have the words to describe how amazing you are. I don't know a whole lot about what it means to be a father yet; my father wasn't exactly the best role model. Your mom and I are going to be learning all this as we go along. But if there's one thing I can promise you, it's that no one is more important to us than you are. Everything that we do is because we love you and we want you to grow up happy and healthy. No matter what, you are always going to be our baby girl. I love you so much."

"Can I get in on this lovefest?" Grace asked teasingly from the doorway of the bathroom, fresh out of the shower and looking a little more like herself, damp hair braided and wearing a flannel nightshirt.

"How long have you been listening?" he asked as she shuffled gingerly across the room, scooping Lucy out of his hands and settling them both on his lap.

"Long enough," she replied as she pinched the back of his right hand.

"Ow! What was that for?" he asked indignantly.

"You're still here, aren't you? Not dreaming? Still have a wife and daughter who love you, right?"

"Right. But it still hurts," he pouted, lifting up his hand, silently asking for a kiss-and-make-better moment, which Grace obliged. "Love you."

"Love you too," she replied dreamily, as she snuggled deeper into his embrace, the three of them rocking quietly, lulling mother and baby to sleep. Their nap was short-lived, as Lucy started squalling after about 15 minutes.

"Hey, Lucy," Rigsby cooed softly, "let mommy sleep a little bit longer, hmm?" he pleaded, reaching down to stroke her cheek.

"She's probably hungry," Grace mumbled. "What time is it?"

"A little after two."

"Yep, right on time. Takes after her daddy that way," she said with a grin.

"Hey, I resent that remark!"

"Babe, you resemble that remark, and you know it," she retorted, leaving a conciliatory kiss on his cheek. "Help me up?"

"I can do better than that," he replied as he reached around her shoulders and under her knees, carrying her and Lucy across the room and gently settling them down on the bed. "I'm going to head down to the cafeteria and grab something to eat, is that okay?"

"Of course, honey. Go, get some food, I can't have everyone in this family complaining about being hungry."

A few minutes later, he'd settled at a small table near a window, about to dig in to an egg salad sandwich, when his cell phone started buzzing. A quick check of the caller ID revealed that it was Ali calling. "Hey, Ali."

"Hey, Wayne," she replied cheerfully. "I didn't call at a bad time, did I?"

"No, but if you're wanting to talk to Grace, you're going to have to call her room direct. She's nursing Lucy and I'm downstairs getting a bite to eat."

She laughed heartily at the notion of father and daughter having similar eating patterns. "Well, I do want to talk to Grace, but I was also calling to check up on you. How's fatherhood treating you so far?"

At the mention of "fatherhood," Wayne went silent. Ali was worried for minute that his cell phone had dropped the call. "Wayne? Hello, Earth to Wayne, are you still with me?"

"Yeah, sorry Ali, I spaced out a little bit there. I guess it's just now sinking in that I'm Lucy's father. It's a lot to process, you know?"

"Rob had a very similar reaction when Dallas was born. It's really easy for me to tell you that you'll get used to the idea pretty quickly, but the fact is, you will. Learn to trust your instincts and you guys will be fine. Lucy won't know or care that you're making it up as you go along; you're her parents and that is all that matters to her."

"Thanks for the pep talk, Ali," he said gratefully.

"Any time. I just wish I could be there to give it to you in person," she commented sadly. "All right, enough already about you. How is Grace holding up?"

"The lack of sleep is already stressing her out. I went home for a couple of hours this morning, and when I got back, she was on the verge of a panic attack because she couldn't get Lucy to stop fussing. She's agitated if she doesn't know where Lucy is at all times. I'm worried about her, Ali."

"The fact that your wife is trying to be supermom doesn't surprise me that much. Has anyone suggested to her that she let Lucy stay in the nursery overnight, so she can get at least one full night's sleep before you guys go home?"

"I did, but as you can probably imagine, the idea went over like a lead balloon. Maybe you could talk to her about it? I think she'd really benefit from advice from someone she trusts who's been through all this, you know? Preferably someone who isn't her mother."

Ali started to laugh so hard she ended up in a coughing fit. "Strangely enough, Pam was a huge help to me when I was in the hospital after I had Dallas. She and my mom came up from Shenandoah together to visit and she helped keep mom from getting on my case too much. But I get what you're saying. I wish I'd had someone my own age to talk to about all this too. Let me see what I can do."

"It would mean a lot to her. To both of us, actually."

"I'll give her a call. Go ahead and finish your lunch, but eat slowly, all right? This may be a long conversation."

* * *

Grace was just finishing settling Lucy to nurse on her right side when the phone in her room started ringing, startling her.

"Hello?"

"Grace? It's Ali. Did I call at a bad time?"

"No, Ali, you're fine. I'm really glad you called, actually. You'll keep me from falling asleep while I'm nursing Lucy."

"Ha ha, I do what I can. How are my favorite new mama and my baby goddaughter?"

"Lucy is fine, I think. As for me," she paused, unsure of how her friend would react to her admission, "I don't know if I was ready for this, Ali. She wasn't due until March, I thought I'd have more time to psych myself up for being a mother. I don't know if I'm nursing her correctly, I'm exhausted, I almost started screaming at Wayne a couple of hours ago because he took her away from me while I was asleep. I'm freaking out here," she said tearfully.

"Grace, everything is going to be okay, I promise," she replied soothingly and confidently. "Let's talk about one concern at a time. First, there is no wrong way to nurse your daughter. Anyone who tries to tell you otherwise can shove it. As long as she's latching on, she's fine, and trust me, if she's anything like her father, she will let you know loud and clear if she's not getting enough to eat. And you can tell Wayne I said that," she added, waiting for Grace to get through her giggle fit.

"Okay, I got you to relax enough to laugh at me making fun of your husband, this is good. Do you feel a little bit better, at least?"

"Yes, much better."

"This is a big adjustment for you guys, Grace, and I'm not gonna lie to you – it is not always going to be rainbows and cupcakes. There are going to be days when it feels like your biggest accomplishment was managing to fit in a shower between nursing and eating and sleeping. Whenever somebody offers to help you out, whether it's bringing over dinner, or running errands, or cleaning the house, **take the offer**. Nobody expects you to do this all by yourself, especially not your husband. Lucy is his daughter too, and you need to be able to relax, let go, and let him have some daddy time with her."

Grace sighed. "I know, Ali. I guess I'm just a little out of it, that's all. We haven't even been in the hospital a full day yet and I already want to go home. I hate hospitals."

"Okay, let's maybe not get ahead of ourselves about going home here. Although, they probably will kick you out tomorrow night as long as you and Lucy are both healthy. Maybe try to enjoy the fact that you have a whole staff of people at your beck and call, ready to cater to your every whim? It doesn't happen very often, you know. Take advantage," she urged.

"You're going to tell me to have Lucy sleep in the nursery overnight, aren't you? Have you been conspiring with my husband?"

"I did talk to Wayne before I called, and while I wouldn't say we've been conspiring, per se, it's not a bad idea, Grace, especially if you're really going to try to get out of there tomorrow. They'll keep her in the nursery for about eight hours or so, give her a bottle or two, and you'll get seven or eight hours of uninterrupted sleep for what will probably be the last time in a very long while. None of this is a bad thing, and any nurse who tries to tell you otherwise can, once again, shove it. If you want to, you can flip them all off on your way out the door, since once you guys are home, you're running the show."

Grace chuckled at the mental image. "I wish you were here, Ali. But I'm glad you called."

"Grace, if it weren't tax season, I'd already be on a plane out there, I promise. Give Lucy lots of hugs and kisses for me. And Grace? Do not hesitate to call me if you need anything. I mean it. Any time, no questions asked."

"Be careful what you wish for, because I can almost guarantee you that I'll take you up on it. I have to let you go, Lucy's decided that she's done with nursing for the time being and Wayne just got back. I'll try to call you this weekend. Bye." She settled the receiver gently onto its cradle as Wayne sat back down next to her, kissing both of his girls on the forehead.

"Hey. How was your chat with Ali?"

"It was good. No offense, honey, but it was nice to be able to talk about all this with someone who's already been through it."

"None taken. I figured as much anyway. You want me to take her off your hands for a second?"

Grace handed the baby over, and watched with a smile as her husband effortlessly cradled Lucy in his palms, lifting her up high so he could plant kisses all over her face. "Hey, punkin," he whispered conspiratorially, "I have a gift for mommy. Wanna help me find it?" he asked, settling her securely on his shoulder, reaching into his duffel bag and extracting from it a small black velvet box.

"Wayne, I thought we agreed on this," Grace admonished.

He turned back, a sheepish expression on his face. "I know we did, but I bought this before we had that conversation, and I just couldn't bring myself to take it back. Think of it as a future family heirloom. If you don't like it, I promise I'll return it tomorrow."

Grace opened the box with a mixture of apprehension and interest. She gasped upon seeing the purple pendant in a basket setting, attached to a delicate gold filigree chain. "Wayne, it's beautiful. Is this an amethyst?"

He nodded, turning to Lucy and kissing her on the cheek. "It's your birthstone, sweetheart. Maybe when you get a little bigger, we can get one just like it for you." Turning back to Grace, he noticed that she was struggling a little bit with the clasp. "Here, let me get that for you," he said as he handed Lucy over and secured the necklace. "Do you like it?" he asked nervously.

Grace looked down at the baby in her arms, then back up at her husband, watching them both adoringly.

"It's perfect. Everything is perfect."


	14. Opportunity Knocks

_A/N: we're bouncing back into the recent past for this chapter and the next, to December 2009. This is a few weeks after the Van Pelts' first visit to Sacramento._

* * *

_Thursday, December 17, lunchtime_

Grace decided to take advantage of unseasonably warm December weather to eat her lunch outside on a park bench down the street from CBI headquarters. She'd needed to take break from research she was doing as a favor for a friend in Cyber Crimes, and if she were totally truthful, her anxiety about bringing Wayne home for Christmas, which was spiking the closer they got to the actual holiday.

She had the entire week off, flying home to Iowa Saturday morning for Christmas, and while he was planning to join her, he couldn't leave until later in the week, in order to keep their relationship off their superiors' radar. Friday night was going to be their only chance to celebrate the holiday privately, and they had a special dinner planned. He'd already met her parents a few weeks prior over Thanksgiving; that issue wasn't her problem. Her larger concern was how to address the inevitable "_So when are you two getting married?_" questions from well-meaning friends and extended family.

_Marriage. A lifetime commitment._ How could she explain to people that those were concepts she wasn't sure she could wrap her brain around yet? How could she make them understand that she and Wayne loved each other, but that they also loved their jobs, that they had both worked hard to get where they were, and that she wasn't sure yet how to make it all work?

Most importantly, could she explain any of this to Wayne himself?

She reflected upon her mother's advice: _Sometimes, a solution presents itself when you least expect it._ Little did she know how right her mother was going to turn out to be, because unbeknownst to her, Grace was being watched.

* * *

_Earlier that morning_

Senior Agent Diana "Fitz" Fitzgerald, head of the Cyber Crimes Unit, approached Teresa Lisbon's office apprehensively. The two women had crossed paths several times during their respective tenures with the San Francisco Police Department, and while Fitz considered Lisbon a valued colleague and respected her leadership abilities, she knew Lisbon might not be very receptive to the idea she was about to broach. Lisbon's reputation as a mother hen when it came to her team was well-known. She knocked on the doorframe anyway.

Lisbon looked up, obviously surprised. "Fitz, this is unusual. What can I do for you?"

"Do you have a few minutes to talk?" she asked, closing the door securely behind her and settling into the couch on the opposite wall.

"Of course. What's on your mind?"

Fitz leaned forward, turning away from the window so she couldn't be seen by Patrick Jane from his spot on his couch. She did not want this conversation getting around the building, and she was fairly confident that the rumors that Jane was a decent lip-reader were true. "I'm not going to beat around the bush on this, Teresa. I'm losing one of the agents on my team in March, and I want to bring Grace Van Pelt over to the group to replace her."

Lisbon's lack of reaction surprised her. "I see. Have you spoken to Grace about this?"

"No. I wanted to run it by you first, gauge your reaction and get a sense as to whether you think she'd accept if I made the offer."

Lisbon laughed. "Unlike Patrick Jane, I don't make any claim to be able to read minds, Diana. Grace is a very hard worker, has a very sharp intellect and is one of the fastest learners I have ever met. I have no doubt that she would be a tremendous asset to your group. I would hate to have her leave the team, but that's a decision only she can make. I will tell you that I believe she would seriously consider it. She is going to be out of town for the holidays after tomorrow, so if this is something you want to discuss with her, I recommend that you do it soon. Give her some time to think it over before she has to make a decision about whether to formally request the transfer, which she can't do until after the first of the year."

"I appreciate the heads up. I was planning to approach her later today, if possible."

"Sometimes, when the weather is especially good, she likes to take her lunch break and eat on that park bench down the street, that faces the Capitol quadrangle. You'll probably attract less attention if you talk to her then."

Fitz stood up, leaning over the desk to shake Lisbon's hand. "That's good advice, thank you. Certainly it goes without saying that this conversation is just between us?"

"I won't tell a soul. Diana?" she asked as Fitz turned around just before she walked out the door, "Good luck."

* * *

She stood about ten feet away from the bench, observing Agent Van Pelt for a few minutes before deciding that Lisbon was correct, there was no time like the present to make the young woman an offer that could, if her inside information was correct, be a pivotal change in both her personal and professional lives.

"Good afternoon, Agent Van Pelt, do you mind if I join you for a few minutes?" she queried as she approached Grace's spot.

Squinting so that she could see better in the afternoon sun, Grace quickly realized who was talking to her and hastily made more room. "Oh, of course, Agent Fitzgerald, what can I do for you?"

She smiled reassuringly. "First of all, you can call me Fitz. I don't want to be too formal about this; can I call you Grace?" Grace nodded around a mouthful of chicken salad sandwich. "Okay, Grace, I have a proposal for you. I'd like for you to hear me out first, so go ahead and keep eating your lunch, but know that this conversation is between you, me and the bench for the time being. Are we clear?" Grace nodded again. "Good. I'm going to lay this out on the line for you. One of my agents is leaving the Bureau at the beginning of March. Her husband has been transferred, and they're moving to the DC area in the spring. I want you to come over to Cyber Crimes to replace her."

Grace nearly choked on her last bite of sandwich, chugging half a bottle of water to clear her throat before she was able to respond. "Me?! I'm very flattered, Agent Fitzgerald, but there have to be at least half a dozen agents in other units with more experience who would jump at this chance. Why me?"

"You have a very unique skill set, Grace, and I'd be lying if I said your experience dealing with a character like Patrick Jane isn't impressive. People tend to avoid the Serious Crimes Unit for that very reason, but you jumped in headfirst. While Mr. Jane's methods are, shall we say, unorthodox at times, his observational skills are indisputable. Additionally, I need someone on the team with significant field experience. Many of my agents have come from similar departments in other law enforcement agencies, both on the local and state levels and most of them come from a technical background. Very few of them have walked a beat, interrogated a suspect, or had to deal with interacting with crime victims and witnesses. Your experience in all of those areas is very valuable to me. Our investigations are going to be a little different from what you're used to. We focus more on long-term projects and our areas of involvement will run the gamut, from identity theft, to interstate fraud, to child pornography and prostitution. This is not a job for the squeamish, but I believe you could do very well. We do a lot of collaborative work with other agencies, which I think could be very beneficial to you, and because we do less fieldwork than other teams, we can be a little more flexible in terms of working conditions. Lastly, while this is not technically a promotion, it is a step up in pay grade."

Grace chewed the last bite of her sandwich slowly, gathering her thoughts before responding. "I am very flattered, Agent Fitzgerald, but this would be a huge change for me and I have to give it some thought first."

"That's fine. Given that you can't formally request the transfer until after the first of the year anyway, I wasn't expecting an answer today. I want you to consider the offer carefully and we can revisit this conversation in January. I'll let you get back to your lunch now," she said as she stood and headed back to the office.

* * *

Grace spent the rest of the day, and that entire evening, in a daze. After heading home, she decided to start packing, haphazardly throwing clothes in her suitcase, not paying very close attention to what she was actually doing, because her mind was racing.

_Cyber Crimes. A transfer. New job. New teammates. New challenges. No Patrick Jane. Recruited. _ A way out? Was this her solution? What if she transferred and she ended up hating it? Worse, what if she transferred and their relationship fell apart because they weren't working together anymore?

_Grace, that's silly,_ she admonished herself. _You've been together for months now. You know that he loves you for who you are. And you love him for the man he is, and the man he wants to be. Why is this even an issue?_

Pros and Cons. She abandoned her packing for the time being, sitting down at her desk to make two lists. Lists always helped clarify her thoughts.

**Cons:**

_New team, new boss – don't know any of them well except Cecelia_

_Will I be low person on the totem pole again?_

_Not a promotion – lateral move?_

_Not working with Wayne every day_

She sat back and reviewed the items on the short list. Numbers one and two could be easily resolved before accepting the job; her friend Cecelia Jackson would be more than happy to give her inside information on anything she wanted to know. Item number three was tied to number two, and could potentially be negotiated if she decided to transfer. She let the last one be for the time being.

**Pros:**

_Opportunity to interact with other agencies – good for networking, professional development_

_Better pay (!)_

_Fewer dead bodies_

_Less dealing with Patrick Jane_

_Flexible hours – more time with Wayne_

_NO MORE HIDING! _

She stared at the last two items on the "Pros" list. The message they were sending was perfectly clear – this was their chance to be a normal couple. Doing normal couple things - dinner and a movie; running errands together on the weekends; romantic getaways - all without the stress and strain of worrying whether someone at the Bureau would catch them together and report them to HR. Everything else was secondary. Grace believed in the strength of their relationship and their feelings for each other, now was the time to prove it.

_Time to take a leap of faith._


	15. All I Want for Christmas

_A/N: This chapter is specifically dedicated to __**KelzyWolf**__ and __**veras333**__, who very nicely asked that I finally get around to writing Wayne and Grace's engagement, and more generally to all you Wayne/Grace fans out there who might be disappointed in what happened in tonight's episode. Keep the faith, folks._

* * *

_Friday, December 18_

Grace woke up extra early the following morning. She'd finished packing a little after midnight and collapsed into bed, tossing and turning all night long. She knew in her heart that requesting the transfer was the right decision, but the prospect of discussing it with Lisbon was ulcer-inducing. She finally gave up around 6AM that morning, and opted to get up, go to an early yoga class, and get to the office before anyone else came in. She'd spoken to Wayne very briefly the night before, but had purposely kept him in the dark about her plans, not wanting to get his hopes up on the off chance that a complication arose that she hadn't foreseen.

She walked in to the office a little after eight and was surprised to find Lisbon already at her desk, sorting through paperwork. She ran through her speech, which she'd already practiced in her head five times in the last 12 hours, and decided better to get the conversation done sooner rather than later.

_Here goes nothing_, she thought as she tapped nervously on Lisbon's office door.

Lisbon looked up and waved absentmindedly. "Come on in, Grace."

"Boss, do you have a few minutes? I need to talk to you about something."

Lisbon set aside the papers and gave her youngest agent her full attention. "You're in the office early today, Grace, is everything all right?"

Grace wrung her fingers together, deathly afraid that she was about to torpedo her career by insulting her boss with her request. "Everything's fine, I just wanted to talk to you about something that happened yesterday."

Lisbon smiled knowingly. "Diana Fitzgerald approached you at lunch, didn't she? About her opening in Cyber Crimes?"

"How did you know that?"

Lisbon reclined back in her chair, studying Grace carefully. Clearly, the young woman was nervous about this conversation. "Agent Fitzgerald came to me yesterday morning and informed me that she wanted to approach you about a transfer. It's considered good karma to inform a fellow team leader when you're about to poach one of her subordinates, even if it's not official policy."

"If you don't mind me asking, what did you tell her?"

"I told her that I believed you would be a tremendous asset to her team, and that while I would hate to lose you, I would not try to influence your decision one way or another."

"Then I guess now is as good a time as any to tell you that I am going to request the transfer after the holidays. I've learned a lot in the 18 months I've been here, but with the team structured the way it is, I think my professional development is better served elsewhere." _There, that sounded good_, she convinced herself. _It's completely truthful, but not 100% truthful. She doesn't need to know the rest of it yet. _

"You are probably right about that, Grace. You have a lot of potential, and I can envision you leading your own team eventually, but seniority within the agency is weighed very heavily when it comes to promotions, and unfortunately, Cho and Rigsby are ahead of you in that respect. Since the Cyber Crimes group is still so new, your opportunities will be better with them."

"Soooo, does this mean you'll approve my transfer request?" Grace asked uncertainly.

"Yes, Grace. Once you come back from your vacation, if the transfer is still what you want, we'll make it happen. I want you to succeed here, I'm not going to prevent you from moving to another team."

Grace was flabbergasted. "I don't know what else to say, except thank you. It means a lot to me that you're being so supportive."

"It's my job, Grace. Since none of this will be official until after you come back from vacation, our discussion needs to be just between us for now."

Grace nodded. _Well, just between you, me and Wayne. But you don't need to know that._ "Yes, ma'am." She hightailed it back to her desk before Lisbon could change her mind, elated that the conversation had gone so much better than she'd originally anticipated. She spent the rest of the day bunkered down at her desk, completing the research project for Cecelia and wrapping up all her outstanding paperwork before heading out the door promptly at five. Wayne had been at a seminar all day and was supposed to meet her at the Italian restaurant a few blocks from her apartment for their "Christmas dinner" at seven. She sent him a text on her way to her car.

_Missed you today. Office was very quiet. See you soon. Love G._

Upon arriving home, she took a few minutes to go through her suitcase, double-checking the half-assed packing job she'd done the night before. Satisfied that she'd be ready to go in the morning, she changed into her favorite green cashmere sweater and striped skirt and headed out the door, anxious to get through dinner so she could share the big news.

* * *

A little more than two hours later, Wayne pulled his car into a free parking space in front of Grace's building. She was about to reach for her seat belt when he grabbed her hands roughly. Startled, she looked up and saw a look of barely-restrained panic on his face.

"Grace, is everything okay? You were acting strangely all through dinner, you barely touched dessert, and you had three glasses of red wine, which you never do. Please tell me what's going on."

Grace melted at the look on his face. _He thinks something's wrong_, she realized. She cupped his cheeks in her hands and leaned over to kiss him gently. "Everything is fine, I promise. Better than fine, actually. But this is not a conversation to be had in the front seat of the car. Come upstairs."

She kicked off her shoes in the foyer of her apartment and tugged Wayne to sit next to her on the couch. "I've been anxious to tell you this all day, but technically you're not supposed to know yet. Diana Fitzgerald approached me yesterday about transferring to the Cyber Crimes Unit. One of her agents is leaving after the first of the year and she wants me to take her place."

She smiled at the knowledge that this news had left her boyfriend completely speechless, but she was starting to worry about the glazed-over look in his eyes. "Wayne? Hello? Did you hear what I just said?"

He snapped back to reality, almost too scared to acknowledge her news, afraid that she'd reveal she was only joking. "Are you really thinking about transferring?"

"No, because I didn't even have to think about it that hard. I told Lisbon today that I'm going to request the transfer in January, and she told me she'd approve it."

"What?!"

"I'm going to transfer. We can stop hiding from everyone. This means we can be together. We can start thinking about our future together. That's good, right?" She was starting to wonder if he was okay with all of this, if maybe she'd jumped the gun in telling him right away. The level of uncertainty emanating from him was very disconcerting.

"Grace, are you a hundred percent sure this is what you want?" he asked, very seriously.

"Yes, Wayne. I didn't do this just for you, or just for me, I did this for us. This is how we can make our relationship work. We can both have jobs we love, and neither of us will have to transfer to a different office. This is exactly what Mom was telling me about when they were here over Thanksgiving. This is our solution."

Wayne dragged her into his lap and hugged her so tightly she was afraid he was going to break her ribs. She responded by clutching the back of his neck and kissing him fiercely. Once they finally came back up for air, she was disappointed to discover that she was being picked up off the couch, and instead of taking her to bed, he was setting her down on the floor next to the Christmas tree.

"Grace, stay right here. I have to run and grab something out of the car, but I promise I'll be right back." He left a kiss on her forehead and bolted for the front door. Grace was confused, but did as she was asked. His behavior since she'd dropped the bomb on him had been bizarre, to say the least, but she was going to let the situation play itself out. She was toying with a picture frame ornament they'd bought for the tree together, when she heard the door open.

"Grace, can you please do me a favor and close your eyes before I come back in?" he yelled from the stairway.

"Okay, my eyes are closed," she replied. She heard the door close, his footsteps crossing the living room floor and felt him sitting across from her. "Can I open them now?"

"Not yet. Grace, this makes me really nervous, I don't know if I'm doing the right thing here, but when you told me you were going to transfer, I just, I had to. I love you so much, and I wanted to do this differently, wine and candles and I dunno, some big romantic gesture like you see in the movies. But I don't want to wait any longer to tell you this."

"Tell me what, Wayne?" she asked as she reached out to stroke his face reassuringly. "You know that you can tell me anything."

He turned to kiss her palm and clasped her hands in his lap. "When we talked at first about potentially making a commitment to each other, something long-term, I knew that wasn't what I wanted, but I didn't want to scare you, to pressure you into a decision you weren't ready to make. But now, I'm wondering if we weren't on the same page the whole time and we just didn't know how to tell each other yet. Because honestly, Grace, long-term isn't enough for me. I want to build a life with you, for us to be a family. Forever. That is, if you'll have me." He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a small black velvet box, which he gently cradled in her hands.

She instinctively opened her eyes wide, prying open the box to reveal a square cut diamond set on a white gold band, surrounded by gemstones of various shapes, sizes and colors. It reminded her of the Tiffany lamps she'd seen in museum catalogs. She loved it instantly.

Looking up, she saw tears streaking down Wayne's face. "Did I screw this up totally?"

Snapping the box closed, she wiped away at the tear tracks, then reached up to clear off the matching ones running down her face. "You forgot to ask me."

"That would be kind of important, wouldn't it?" he joked as he pried the ring out of the box. "Grace Van Pelt, I love you, and I want to be with you for the rest of our lives. Will you marry me?"

She stretched her left hand out, wiggling her ring and pinky fingers in anticipation. He slid the ring carefully over her knuckles; it fit perfectly. "It's beautiful, and this is perfect. I don't care that we didn't have wine or candles or a big romantic gesture. You're all I need, and everything I want, and I love you, and yes, I will marry you."

They sat together for a few quiet minutes, limbs entwined, rocking back and forth, pausing occasionally for kisses, letting the moment sink in. They were getting married. Grace leaned down to nuzzle his neck, undoing the top few buttons of his dress shirt and dumping his suit jacket on the floor.

"Take me to bed," she whispered breathily.

"Don't you want to open the rest of your gifts?"

Her kisses and nips became more insistent. "The gifts can wait until New Year's for all I care. I already got the one thing I never would have thought to actually ask for. Everything else is just icing on the cake, and I want to make love to my fiance at least once before he has to put me on a plane tomorrow morning and I won't see him again for four days."

_Fiance_. He liked the sound of that word. Eventually it would be replaced with "husband," which he liked even better.

_She chose me, _he thought to himself._ No wait, that's not even right. She chose us. _


	16. Happy Together

Grace blinked her eyes blearily and tried to focus on the alarm clock on the nightstand behind Wayne's head. _12:30._ They'd been asleep barely a half-hour. Her head was still spinning. She was getting married. No, that wasn't right – _they_ were getting married.

When she'd come to the decision the night before to request the transfer, never in her wildest dreams did she think that less than 24 hours later, she'd be engaged. She stared at the ring on her left hand, the gemstones glinting in the light filtering through the blinds, dark colors surrounding the brilliant diamond contrasting starkly against her pale skin. _It looks like an antique. I wonder if it's an heirloom_, she pondered as she started mindlessly drawing patterns on his chest; hearts, stars and flowers. _Grace loves Wayne_, she wrote, pressing her nails into his skin just deeply enough so she could see the trails of the letters as they faded away.

"I love you too, Grace," he mumbled as he turned to wrap her tightly in his arms.

"Are we really getting married?" she asked dreamily as she stroked his face with her fingertips.

"You're the one wearing the ring, you tell me," he teased, kissing her palm and turning her hand over to admire the ring.

"No takebacks," she said firmly.

"I wouldn't dream of it," he whispered, "I've been waiting seven years to find the right woman to give this ring to."

"Seven years?" she asked incredulously. "Is it a family heirloom?"

He shook his head. "No. But it has sort of an interesting history. So maybe that makes up for the fact that I couldn't come up with a big romantic gesture?"

"We've already been over that. I think being proposed to at all is a pretty big romantic gesture. But I would like to know why this ring is so special to you."

He flopped onto his back, settling deeply into the pillows and gathering her up so her head was nestled comfortably on his chest. "Long, long ago, in a land far, far away called San Diego ..." His tale was interrupted by a painful punch to his arm. "Ouch! That was unnecessary."

She leaned down to lick the spot on his bicep where a bruise would likely form in a few hours. "I'm sorry," she murmured against his skin, "please, carry on with the fairy tale."

"Thank you. As I was saying. One of the first cases I worked on in San Diego involved a series of fires at small, family-owned jewelry stores and antique shops. We thought they were unrelated at first, but my partner and I soon figured out that they were the work of a serial arsonist, and partly an inside job. One of the store owners was so grateful, because we'd kept him from being sued by his insurance company for fraud, that he offered us a discount on anything in the store. I didn't think anything of it for a while, because technically we're not supposed to take advantage of that kind of thing, but I went back to the store a couple of months later, just on a whim, and I saw this ring. My grandmother has one just like it. The shop owner told me he'd picked it up at an estate sale, and that it was probably at least fifty years old. I can't even tell you why, I wasn't dating anyone at the time, but I was drawn to it, and I bought it anyway. I hoped that one day I'd find the woman of my dreams and that she'd agree to marry me. I've had it ever since."

Grace stared at her hand, blinking away tears. "Woman of your dreams, huh?"

He reached up to brush her hair out of her face. "Believe me, Grace, the reality is so much better than anything I could have ever imagined."

She leaned down to rest her head on his chest again, ear pressed to his heart. Usually, the rumbling in his chest would lull her to sleep, reassured that he would still be there in the morning, but not tonight. Tonight all sorts of emotions and plans were keeping her awake, yet hesitant to press on, fearful that somehow, some way, the rug would still be pulled out from under her.

"Are you going to wear it home?' he asked, tracing the outline of the ring with his finger.

"Yes. I want Mom and Dad to know that we worked this out, that we found a way that's going to make us both happy."

"I thought about bringing the ring with me to Iowa and proposing over Christmas, but I didn't want to pressure you with all of your family and friends around. That didn't seem fair. And I especially didn't want to force your hand, make you choose between me and the job."

"At the end of the day, Wayne, the job is just a job. I love working for the Bureau, don't get me wrong, but there are plenty of options for me there, I just needed to find the right one. Preferably one that won't get me killed. Because I intend to be with you until we're both old and gray."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. You and me, a nice little house with a fenced-in backyard, maybe a dog, and of course that little baby girl you dreamed about once," she teased as she kissed the tip of his nose.

"Just the baby girl?"

She rested her chin on her hands and pondered the question for a minute. "I think maybe two would be good. We're both only children, I don't want that for our family. I reserve the right to stop there, though."

"House, dog, two kids, option on a third, sounds like a good plan to me. A nice, normal, happy life."

Grace chuckled heartily. "As long as Patrick Jane is still a part of our lives, I think 'normal' is going to be debatable. I will take 'happy,' though. Any day of the week and twice on Sunday."

He rolled them both over so Grace was now flat on her back and began licking a trail along her collarbone from one shoulder across to the other. "I can live with that."

"How soon do you want to get married?"

He paused, knowing that this was likely a trick question and therefore the safest play was to toss it back in her court. "Honestly, Grace, I hadn't really thought about it yet. I wasn't even sure you'd say yes. We can't exactly go public with this until your transfer goes through, and I figured you'd want some time to plan ..."

She pressed her finger to his lips, silencing his rambling. "My lease is up at the end of May. Your place is bigger, I think we should live there after the wedding until we can find a place together."

He reared up onto his forearms, staring at her quizzically, wanting to be sure he was understanding her perfectly. "This May? As in, five months from now?"

She nodded. "This May. I neither need, nor do I want, a big to-do, having to invite lots of people we barely know. I just want us, our families and our close friends to be there. And we can pull that off in five months."

"We can, but we don't have to. I don't want you to feel like we have to rush this."

Grace smiled, reaching up to cup his cheeks in her hands and kiss him tenderly. She understood his hesitation, his worry that he was unwittingly pressuring her into moving faster than she really wanted to. "Baby, when you find the person you want to spend the rest of your life with, you want the rest of your life to start as soon as possible. Five months is not too soon for me."

He deftly flipped them over, threading his fingers into her hair, clutching her to him desperately as he tried to suck the breath out of her with his kisses, devouring her mouth hungrily. "Five months. We're getting married in five months. I guess we should start planning when we're in Shenandoah next week."

"Actually, I'm glad you brought that up," she said nervously. "I don't want to get married at home."

He sat up in surprise, almost knocking her backwards onto the bed. "What? Why not? I mean, that's where your family is, isn't that how it's supposed to work? Get married in the bride's hometown?"

Grace thought his confusion was rather endearing. "Our friends are here in California, our lives are here. I don't want a big wedding, and the people I'd want to invite would travel anytime, anywhere to be with us. There's a bed and breakfast on the coast, near Santa Rosa, that hosts weddings overlooking the ocean. We could get married there. We'll rent the place out, everyone can stay the weekend, it'll be perfect."

"You've been thinking about this, haven't you?"

She dipped her head, wanting to avoid his gaze out of a hint of embarrassment. "Maybe a little. I never imagined we'd be having this conversation this soon, though. I found the B&B a few weeks after I first moved here, just driving around, getting the lay of the land. I filed it away in the 'someday' part of my brain, and it just stuck."

He brushed her hair out of her face and kissed her forehead. "Your dad is not going to like this idea, you know."

"Let me handle Dad. I think I can convince him."

"Okay," he said agreeably as he eased them both back down into the pillows. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught the time on the alarm clock. 1:30. "Shit, Grace, I didn't realize how late it was. We're going to have to get up in four hours to get you to the airport on time."

Her hands started roaming restlessly up and down his chest. "You don't have anywhere to be tomorrow and you know that I like to sleep on the plane. I'm not really all that tired right now."

"Not all that tired, hmm? Is there something else you'd rather be doing?" he asked as he dragged his fingertips slowly up and down her spine, surreptitiously nudging her legs apart with one knee.

She tugged them both up into a sitting position, propping the pillows up behind him. Wordlessly, she backed him up against the pillows and the headboard, pinning his hands at his sides, unable to touch her, caress her skin, tease her to the brink. By sheer force of will, she kept just enough distance between their bodies that her breasts would barely brush his chest every time she leaned forward for a brief, tantalizing kiss. And every time her fought against her hold, tried to push forward, to bring them closer together, she would pin his head back against the wall, reasserting her dominance with the force of her kisses. At the rate he was going, he was going to be sporting a significant lump on the back of his head and a bloody lip in the morning.

"Grace, please let go of my hands, let me touch you," he whined breathlessly.

She licked her lips, nipping at his mouth hesitantly, debating whether to relent, but ultimately deciding to stay her course. "No," she admonished. "I want to come just by watching you make love to me. And I want you to do the same. Think you're up for that challenge?" she smirked.

He sat up straight, bending his legs so that her upper body rested on his thighs, and she sank effortlessly down onto his hard cock. He felt her nails digging painfully into his hands; despite her challenge, he knew that she was going to have just as difficult a time as he would in keeping her hands to herself. He was determined not to make this a battle of wills, but rather an opportunity to approach their sexual relationship from a different perspective. To see each other differently. It seemed only fitting.

Grace had a bit of an advantage in this position; having done yoga for years allowed her to focus more easily, and utilize only her core muscles to slowly rock back and forth. They settled comfortably into an unhurried, languid rhythm, meeting each other stroke for stroke, their movements punctuated solely by hisses, whines and grunts of pleasure.

Wayne looked deep into her brown eyes, staring straight into his soul, and saw glimpses of every emotion he'd ever associated with Grace – sadness, happiness, compassion, confusion, triumph, hurt, anger, frustration, playfulness, faith, trust, and love. She could make everyone and everything around him disappear with a mere fleeting glance. He'd been lost since the day she walked into his life, and now no longer had to worry that the day would come that she would walk out of it for good. For the first time in his adult life, love was given and received in equal measures. That assurance – _I am hers, and she is mine_ – overwhelmed him.

Grace watched him watching her. She didn't need to look in his eyes to perceive the ebb and flow of his emotions; she felt it in his every movement. The tension in his upper body, muscles straining under the struggle to keep his hands from claiming every inch of her body, to keep his lips from tasting the salt coating her skin, to keep from inhaling the heady scent of their combined arousal, which hung in the air like a thick fog. All of it eased as he felt her body respond to him, saw her eyes lock in on his, unwilling and unable to focus on anything else. When she saw the tears start to stream out of the corners of his eyes, she knew. All his insecurities, fears and worries about their relationship had finally melted away; their emotional connection was all that was left. She leaned forward to kiss his cheeks, tenderly drinking up the rivulets of saltwater streaming down his face. She pressed their foreheads together, ensuring that they could do nothing other than stare into each other's eyes, and whispered a promise she'd never made to anyone else before. "I love you, Wayne, and I always will. Forever."

What little hold he had left over his self-control broke through then, gripping her hands tightly as he thrust deeply, triggering an orgasm that was as emotionally powerful as it was physically draining. She was not, and had never been, a screamer; this climax left her out of breath and lightheaded. Finally letting go of his hands, she slumped into him, boneless and breathless, burying her head in the crook of his shoulder.

"Can I touch you now?" he pleaded desperately. She responded by wrapping his arms around her waist, rolling over gently so she was lying on her back, his head pillowed on her breasts, one hand covering her heart.

As they drifted off to sleep, they each saw brief glimpses of their potential future – _a beautiful Saturday afternoon wedding by the ocean; a two-story blue house with white shutters; two children and a dog playing happily in the backyard._

A life well-lived. Happy, together.


	17. Firsts: Mother's Day

Grace woke up on Sunday morning much later than usual. Once her brain registered the relative lateness of the hour - 8:30 - she sat bolt upright, leaping out of bed and grabbing her bathrobe as she ran out of the bedroom. She poked into the nursery, noting that Lucy was not in her crib; given that her husband's half of the bed had been empty, she assumed they were downstairs. _Why didn't Wayne wake me up for Lucy's feeding?_ she wondered to herself. As she reached the bottom of the staircase and prepared to round the corner into the kitchen, she almost ran her husband over.

"Grace, honey, where are you going?" he asked, surprised.

Grace stared at the breakfast tray in Wayne's hands, loaded down with all of her favorites – pancakes, strawberries, scrambled eggs and grapefruit juice. Lucy was nestled snugly, fast asleep, in the only sling they owned that her father was willing to wear. And that's when she remembered what day it was, collapsing onto the bottom step of the stairs in a puddle of tears.

Wayne carefully set the breakfast tray down on the floor, trying not to jostle Lucy awake in the process. Sitting down next to Grace on the bottom step, he wrapped one arm around her waist and cuddled with her quietly until her tears subsided. "Is everything okay?"

"I'm sorry," she choked out tearfully.

"Sorry for what, sweetheart?"

"I ruined your surprise! I woke up, totally forgot what day it was, and I was mad at you for not waking me up to feed Lucy so I was going to come downstairs and start yelling at you and then I saw that you made me breakfast, and why are you laughing at me?"

Wayne deftly dodged his wife's feeble attempt to punch him in the arm as his laughter subsided. "I just can't believe that you forgot it was Mother's Day. On your very first Mother's Day, no less. I'm sorry, baby, it's just too funny." He paused to kiss her on the forehead. "Tell you what, how about you head back upstairs to bed, I'll give you five minutes, and we can pretend this never happened, okay?"

Grace smiled, pecked her husband on the cheek and scampered back up the stairs. Wayne peeked inside the sling to make sure Lucy was still asleep, marveling at the fact that their not-quite-three-month-old could snooze through her mother's loud, heaving sobs and her father's throaty laughter. Having allowed exactly five minutes to pass, he headed back upstairs. Grace was tucked under the covers, feigning sleep, but the tiny smile on her face was a dead giveaway. Wayne set the tray down on her lap and leaned in for a kiss.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty, Happy Mother's Day."

Grace yawned and stretched exaggeratedly. "Thank you, honey. How long have you been up, slaving away in the kitchen?" she asked, winking teasingly as she dug into the large stack of pancakes.

"Lucy woke up about two hours ago, and after she was finished with her bottle, we decided that breakfast in bed would be a nice surprise for Mommy on her first Mother's Day, didn't we, punkin?" Lucy gurgled in response.

Grace reached over for her baby girl, laughing at the "I love my Mommy" t-shirt and matching shorts she was sporting instead of the pajamas she'd been wearing the night before at bedtime. "This was very thoughtful, thank you both."

Wayne snatched a fork and started polishing off the remaining pancakes. "What do you want to do today, babe? Name it, it's yours."

Grace sank back down into her pillows, cuddling Lucy to her chest, lost in thought. "What I really want is a day for us to just be together. No phone calls from the office, no interruptions of any kind. Cell phones turned off, calls going to voice mail. Just Mommy, Daddy and Lucy."

"You're sure you don't want a day off from being Mommy?"

"I'm sure. If we didn't have Lucy, we wouldn't be celebrating today anyway, right?"

"I didn't think of it that way, but that's a good point. We probably shouldn't tell her that, though, don't want her to get a bigger head than she already has," he joked, kissing her forehead.

"Don't listen to Daddy, sweetheart, he's just kidding," Grace whispered to Lucy.

"Okay, I think that's my cue to take the dishes downstairs and clean up the kitchen. I'm going to check in with the office just to make sure that I'm not on call today, but after that, I promise, cell phones off, no interruptions. Deal?"

"Deal."

Wayne returned about a half-hour later to find both Grace and Lucy asleep. Crawling quietly back into bed, he reached out to tuck them under the covers. Lucy stirred just enough to start sucking on her thumb and a couple of fingers, waking Grace.

"Hey. Do you want me to put her back down in her room, so you can get some more sleep?"

Grace smiled sleepily, kissing Lucy's forehead. "Nope, I'm fine. She'll probably want to nurse in an hour or so anyway. She never sleeps like this for me so I'm trying to enjoy it as much as I can."

Wayne scooted closer, kissing Grace's exposed shoulder and gently tickling Lucy's foot. "We have a three-month-old. How did that happen?"

"Well," she replied mischievously, "when a Mommy and a Daddy love each other very much- mpmhmphmph," Grace's teasing was cut off by an impassioned kiss from her husband. Their romantic moment was rudely interrupted by Lucy's irritated squalling.

"Uh oh, sounds like someone is feeling a little left out," Wayne observed as he picked Lucy up, plastering her tiny face with kisses and blowing raspberries on her tummy. Grace wrapped her arms around his waist, tugging them backwards onto the bed, the three of them dissolving into a fit of giggles.

"It's funny, how much things can change in such a short time," Wayne commented pensively. "This time last year, we hadn't even started talking about having a baby, and now look at us. We have the most amazing little girl, Grace. Every day I think I can't possibly love her more than I already do, and she always does something that proves me wrong. And every time that happens, it's because she reminds me of you."

Grace smiled and nibbled his ear affectionately. "Flattery will get you everywhere, honey."

Wayne's expression turned serious. "I mean it, Grace. I'd be lying if I said I wasn't even a little bit relieved by the fact that we decided not to give each other gifts for Mother's Day and Father's Day, because you know that I hate shopping for stuff, but honestly, how do you thank the person who's given you the greatest gift a man could ask for? You've been doing all the heavy lifting since Lucy was born and all the early morning feedings and the bedtime stories and the Saturday mornings she spends with me can't make up for that. I could tell you a thousand times a day how much I love you, what a great mother you are and how much I wish I could do more, and I feel like it still wouldn't be good enough."

Grace snuggled in closer, reaching for Lucy's free hand and kissing her tiny fingers. "You're selling yourself short, Wayne. All I need from you is to come home to us at the end of the day, and be the wonderful husband and father that you already are. You don't have to be Superdaddy. You just have to be Lucy's daddy. That makes me happy. Everything else is just icing on the cake."

"You're easy to please," he teased.

"Maybe so," she acknowledged. "But you're forgetting one very important thing: she's just as much a gift to me as she is to you. She's a part of you that no one can take away from me, no matter what happens. I can't take for granted the fact that we both have dangerous jobs, so every day that we have together is a gift as far as I'm concerned. That's why they call it the present, you know."

Wayne turned to stare at his wife, dumbfounded yet about to burst into laughter. "You are so corny."

"I am from Iowa, after all," she replied with a completely straight face.

Rigsby could not contain his laughter any longer; unfortunately, his booming voice and the spasms triggered by his giggles woke Lucy again. "Okay, she is so not going to nap if she stays in here with us. I'm going to put her down. Back in a few."

Grace burrowed back under the covers, listening over the baby monitor to Wayne soothingly cajole Lucy back to sleep. By the time he returned fifteen minutes later, she was out like a light as well. He settled back into bed at her side, enjoying the peace that had settled over their household.

"Happy Mother's Day, Grace," he whispered. "I love you so much."


	18. Getting Married Today

_a/n: Here we go, Wayne and Grace's big day. Once again, there's so much story here that I'm having to break this up into two parts. I hope that's okay with everyone, and I thank all of your for your patience. Lastly, I want to offer my heartfelt apologies to __**schnerb**__, to whom I promised that this would be posted last weekend – since that is, in "real time," when the wedding actually happened – and I totally whiffed on that promise. Mea culpa, I hope this makes up for it a little bit. - aml_

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* * *

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_Saturday, May 22 7:30 AM_

Grace woke up extra-early the morning of the wedding. She was an early riser by nature, but she'd slept rather fitfully the night before, owing to the fact that she was sleeping alone. Wayne had insisted they stay in separate rooms after the rehearsal dinner, and while she wasn't terribly superstitious, he was so adamant about the idea that she didn't have the heart to try to talk him out of it. Peering between the curtains, she smiled, seeing bright rays of sunshine appearing on the horizon. It was shaping up to be a beautiful day. She quickly changed into warmups and flip-flops and headed towards the beach for a walk.

About an hour later, she flopped down into the sand, allowing the water to gently lap at her feet while sorting through a small pile of seashells she'd collected on her walk. Her reverie was broken by the arrival of her matron of honor, proffering coffee and croissants.

"You're up awful early for a girl who isn't getting married for another eight hours," Ali teased as she tossed off her shoes and settled in next to her best friend.

"I couldn't sleep," Grace replied around a mouthful of croissant. "Wayne insisted on bunking with Cho last night, so I was by myself in our room. It's not like we haven't spent the night apart before, obviously, but this just felt … different, somehow. I guess that sounds a little needy, doesn't it?"

Ali laughed. "Not really. Rob did the same thing to me at our wedding, if you'll remember. I wish you'd said something last night, Grace, I would have kept you company. You probably would have gotten even less sleep though."

"It's okay, don't worry about it. Even if you had, I suspect that we wouldn't have stayed up all night sharing a bottle of wine like we did before your wedding. Is there maybe something you wanted to tell me about?"

"I have no earthly idea what you might be referring to, Grace," she smirked.

"Don't give me that, Ali. I know you. You barely touched your fried chicken last night, and fried chicken's your favorite. And Rob kept swiping every glass of wine set in front of you. I can put two and two together."

"Okay, you caught us. Yes, I'm pregnant. I didn't want you to feel like I was stepping on your big day, Grace, and we just found out a couple of weeks ago, so we haven't been telling too many people yet. I'm due in December, a couple of weeks before Christmas."

Grace dragged her best friend into a huge bear hug. "Ali, I'm so happy for you guys. This is so exciting! Are you going to find out if you're having a boy or a girl?"

"Rob wants to, but right now, I'd rather be surprised. We'll see how I feel about it once I get closer to the 20-week mark. I have a hunch it's a boy though. I have no idea why."

"Could it be the fact that Rob's family hasn't had a girl born into it in three generations, possibly?"

"That might have something to do with it," Ali chuckled. She stood and pulled Grace to her feet. "C'mon, Bridezilla, we have a salon appointment in 45 minutes, so we need to fetch your mom and hit the road."

"Right behind you."

_9 AM_

Rigsby was very rudely awakened later that morning by pillows flying at his head, courtesy of his best man. "Cho, why are you throwing pillows at my head?" he grumbled.

"Because the hotel stops serving breakfast in an hour, and it seemed like the safest way to get your lazy ass out of bed and get moving," he replied matter-of-factly.

"Have you seen Grace this morning?"

"I saw Alison heading in the direction of the beach a little while ago, and Mrs. Van Pelt talking to the events director, but no, I have not seen Van Pelt herself. Mrs. Van Pelt said something about a nail appointment at 10, so I think that if you're still going to insist on following that silly superstition about not seeing the bride before the wedding, you'll be okay for the rest of the morning."

"Thank you," Rigsby replied, slightly muffled by the pile of pillows.

Cho sighed in exasperation. "I'm heading into Santa Rosa to pick up the rings from the jewelers and meet Elise for lunch. Is there anything else you need me to do while I'm out?"

Rigsby surveyed the room, running through his mental checklist. Their tuxes were hanging in the closet; the florist would be arriving later that morning with their boutonnieres, corsages for the moms and the bouquets; the photographer was going to arrive at two, but all of the formal photos would be taken after the ceremony. They had a lot of time to kill. "I think we're good. Have a good time, but make sure you're back here no later than one!" he yelled as Cho disappeared into the hall.

Rigsby got up, tugged on a t-shirt and jeans, and headed for the main lobby, where continental breakfast was served every morning until 10AM. After loading down his plate with toast, scrambled eggs and a couple of slices of bacon, he grabbed a glass of orange juice and scanned the crowd to find a place to eat. He saw his mother sitting a table chatting with Grace's father and decided to crash their party.

"Hi Mom," he said as he kissed her on the cheek. "Rich, good to see you this morning. Mind if I join you?"

Richard Van Pelt stood to shake his future son-in-law's hand. "Good morning, Wayne. Your mom and I were just discussing how we were going to spend the rest of the morning, since we have so much free time before the ceremony."

Wayne's mother, Ann, swallowed her last bite of toast. "Your grandparents and I are going to drive over to Healdsburg. I've been told there are some lovely antique shops downtown, and we'll probably get a little bite to eat for lunch as well."

Wayne nodded. "I think that's where Grace, Ali and Pam went to have their nails done this morning."

"Michaela, the events coordinator, recommended a salon when Grace and Pam were here last month finalizing the preparations," Rich added.

"How about you, sir? Any plans for the rest of the day?" Wayne asked Rich.

"I am going to take advantage of this perfect weather and go for a run along the coast, then, unfortunately, I have to work up lesson plans for a couple of summer classes I'm teaching at the community college next month. That should keep me pretty busy until it's time to get dressed. My wife has my entire afternoon scheduled for me."

"That sounds like a plan. I have to make sure someone is here to direct the florists when they get here to set up, but aside from that, I guess I just have to be dressed and ready to go by four," he exhaled nervously.

Ann Rigsby reached across the table to squeeze her son's hand reassuringly. "Don't worry, honey, the rehearsal went perfectly last night, everybody knows where they're supposed to be and when they're supposed to be there. It's going to be fine. "

"You're right, but I just can't help but worry a little bit," he mumbled, pushing food around on his plate.

"Finish your breakfast, sweetheart," she admonished as she cleared her own plate. "You and an empty stomach don't mix well."

All three adults at the table laughed hysterically. "Thanks, Mom, I feel better now."

"That's what moms are for," she replied as she backed her chair away from the table. "I have to go fetch your grandparents. We'll be back around one; call me if you need anything."

"Have a good time!"

Rich Van Pelt also stood, clearing away his dishes. "Wayne, I hate to abandon you here to your breakfast, but the beach is calling my name. You going to be okay by yourself?" he teased.

"I'll be fine. Enjoy your run. See you at 4:30?"

"I'll be there with bells on," he winked before heading out the door.

Wayne slowly ate the last of his breakfast and, after failing to come up with any other more appealing options for how to spend the rest of the morning, headed back to Cho's room for a nap.

* * *

Ali and Grace had agreed to meet back at Wayne and Grace's room at a quarter to two; Grace had given her a spare key in case she was still in the shower. Hanging up her own dress on the closet door, she tossed her makeup case on the bed and peered in the bathroom, where she discovered Grace, wearing only her bathrobe, attempting to wrangle her still-damp hair into large velcro rollers.

"Don't laugh, Ali," Grace growled upon seeing her friend's reflection in the mirror.

"I'm sorry, Grace, I can't help it. You've never been able to manage those curlers on your own, why didn't you call me sooner so I could help you?"

"You said you were going to take a nap, I didn't want to interrupt your rest."

"That's very sweet of you, Grace, but this is your big day and I want to help you look your absolute best. Also, the photographer is going to be here soon and is going to want to take some behind-the-scenes pictures, so if you don't want to change into your dress just yet, you might want to put some regular clothes on."

"Good call," Grace acknowledged as she threw on a button-down blouse and shorts.

Twenty minutes later, Ali had untangled Grace's hair from the curlers and re-set it in a halo around her head. Pam Van Pelt arrived shortly thereafter, already dressed in a pastel green suit, photographer in tow and her hands full with snacks.

"Grace, honey, I thought I'd bring some food to munch on while you're finishing getting ready, since you didn't eat much at lunch. I've got bottles of water, straws, some cheese and crackers and fruit, what would you like?"

"Just some cheese and crackers I guess. I'm not sure I could keep anything else down right now."

"Hey, that's supposed to be my line!" Ali cracked, punching Grace lightly on the arm.

Pam busied herself over the next half-hour alternately playing traffic cop with the photographer and gatekeeper with guests arriving at the hotel wanting to pop in and say hello, while Grace and Ali simultaneously did each other's makeup, and Ali expertly swept her shoulder-length brown hair into a flawless French twist, taming a few stray wisps back with jeweled hairpins to match the blue topaz jewelry Grace had given her as a gift.

"Ugh, I hate the fact that you can get your hair to do that so effortlessly," Grace whined.

Ali winked. "I can't help it that my hair behaves itself. Besides, no one is going to be looking at me, I promise you that much. Okay, I think we've put off getting dressed long enough." Turning to the photographer, she asked apologetically, "Would you mind giving us a few minutes to change?"

Pam tugged on the young woman's sleeve as she directed her out of the room. "Actually, Lisa, Grace's father and I have a couple of gifts for Grace that I left in our room. Maybe you could come with me and take a few photos while we let the girls get dressed."

"Gifts?" Ali inquired as she retrieved both of the dresses from the closet.

Grace shrugged. "I'm wearing my grandmother's comb in my hair instead of a veil, but other than that, I'm in the dark."

"Interesting." Ali mused as she stepped into her robin's egg blue strapless gown. Grace turned her around so she could zip up the back, and tie the ivory sash around her waist, knotting it elegantly just above her hip.

"Ali, are you sure you're going to be comfortable in this? You don't have to wear the sash if you don't want to."

"I'm fine, Grace, I just had the last alterations done a couple of days ago, so it won't be a problem. Besides, I like the sash, it breaks up the fabric beautifully."

"Okay, I just want to make sure you don't faint in the middle of the ceremony."

"Since this isn't going to be a full-length church service, don't you worry about me. Let's get you poured into this dress," Ali replied as she handed over white silk charmeuse gown to Grace, who tugged it on over her shorts while simultaneously pulling the bodice up underneath her blouse. Ali marveled at her friend's insistence on modesty. "Grace, you look absolutely ridiculous trying to wriggle your way into that dress before taking off the rest of your clothes."

Grace sighed. "I know, I just feel a little awkward not wearing a bra under this, but the back is so low I couldn't find a backless that worked," she muttered as she tugged off her blouse and bra while kicking off her shorts. Slipping her arms into the lace cap sleeves, she turned her back to Ali. "Can you button me up please?"

"No problem," she replied as she carefully joined the hook closures and looped the tiny pearl buttons covering them. "You are so lucky that you found a dress with the boning and cups sewn in, this fits you like a glove."

"You like it?" she asked nervously. Ali hadn't seen the dress in person prior to flying out to Sacramento.

She fastened the final button, then smoothed out the rest of the skirt. "It's gorgeous, Grace, and it's perfect for today. You look beautiful. Or you will, at least, once we get your hair taken care of."

"I couldn't agree more," joked Rich Van Pelt from his perch in the doorway. "Though I actually like the hair as it is, Grace, the rollers are a nice touch."

"Very funny, Coach Van Pelt," Ali griped sarcastically, as she started carefully unraveling Grace's curls, dousing each with hairspray as she removed the rollers.

"Just kidding, Alison," he replied, pecking her on the cheek. "And when are you finally going to start calling me Rich, liked I asked you to do years ago?"

"Old habits die hard. Maybe once Wayne and Grace have kids, I can start calling you Grandpa."

"Speaking of future grandparents, I saw your mom and dad checking in at lunchtime. They didn't fly in this morning, did they?"

"They stayed in San Francisco last night and drove up today."

Rich nodded in understanding. "That makes sense. Pam and Grace and I spent a little time in San Francisco last fall, it's a lovely city."

Rollers all removed, Grace reached up to gingerly finger-comb her hair. "Dad, do you have Grandma's comb for me?"

Rich removed a black velvet satchel from his inside jacket pocket. "Right here, sweetheart. You have your something old, something borrowed and something blue now."

Grace tucked the antique pearl and diamond comb just above her right ear. After surveying herself in the mirror above the dresser and turned to face the music. "How do I look?" she asked uncertainly.

"Incomplete," her mother interjected as she walked into the room. "You're missing the rest of your jewelry. We can fix that, though," she said as she handed Grace a flat black box. Grace opened it to reveal a diamond pendant and matching diamond and pearl drop earrings.

"These are beautiful," Grace choked out, trying not to cry.

"Sweetie, please try not to cry, I don't think Alison wants to have to re-do your makeup," Rich teased as he settled the necklace around his daughter's neck. "You look gorgeous, baby. Wayne is going to be blown away when he sees you."

Pam and Alison nodded emphatically in agreement. "You're beautiful, honey. Daddy and I are so happy for you and Wayne."

"I think not going with a veil was the right call, Grace. With your hair down, and that dress, you look like you just walked out of a 1940s-era movie. Very Rita Hayworth," Ali agreed.

"That's funny, because Rita Hayworth is one of Wayne's favorite actresses. He loves _Gilda_."

"Mission accomplished, then."

Pam Van Pelt checked her watch and was shocked to realize that it was already four o'clock. "Honey, we have a half-hour to go. I need to grab your bouquets and Dad's boutonniere, but we'll be back in a few minutes."

Grace shooed her parents out the door. "Go then. I'll be fine."

Ali headed towards the door as well. "I have to go check on my husband, make sure he's out of the shower and getting dressed. Are you sure you're going to be okay for a few minutes by yourself?"

"I'm fine, I promise!" Grace shouted in slight exasperation as Ali headed down the hall to her own room.

"Everything all right, Grace? Would you like for me to work with you on some calming breathing exercises?" a male voice asked playfully from out in the hallway.

"You can come in, Jane, no need to skulk around."

Patrick Jane tentatively entered the room, and visibly relaxed upon realizing that the bride-to-be was perfectly calm and no interventions would be needed. "You look lovely, Grace. Wayne is going to faint dead away when he sees you in that dress."

Grace smiled knowingly. "I certainly hope that he doesn't, because I need him upright and conscious for the ceremony. After that, all bets are off. Thank you for the compliment, by the way. I'm glad you were able to make it today."

He smiled wistfully. "I wouldn't have missed it. I even bought a new suit for the occasion," he revealed as he turned to model the blue pinstripe three-piece ensemble, complete with tone-on-tone blue dress shirt and tie.

"I wondered why it didn't look familiar. I'm honored; you look very dapper."

"Thank you. Have you seen Lisbon yet?"

"She should be around somewhere. She is reading a passage from scripture during the ceremony, so she drove over last night for the rehearsal."

"I see. Knowing Lisbon, then, she's probably pacing outside, trying to calm her nerves."

Grace laughed at the notion of her former boss being panic-stricken over speaking in front of a small gathering. "I think she'll be fine. She accepted without any hesitation when I asked her to participate. Have you seen Wayne yet, by any chance?"

"I came straight back here as soon as I checked in, actually, so no. Is there something you'd like for me to tell him?"

Grace shook her head, retrieving a small blue velvet bag from the dresser. "If you could just give this to him before the ceremony starts, I'd appreciate it. And no peeking, please."

Jane carefully tucked the bag into his jacket pocket. "No peeking, I promise." He pecked her gingerly on the cheek before turning to head out the door, nearly running into her parents and Ali on the way out.

Pam handed over her daughter's bouquet, a blend of blue hydrangeas, white roses and lilies. Her dad's boutonniere was a single white rose, perfectly complementing the green cravat and matching pocket square that coordinated with his wife's suit. Her mother's corsage was a white lily adorned with a small sprig of baby's breath and a white ribbon. Ali's bouquet was just the lilies and hydrangeas. Grace gathered her sweep train so that it wouldn't drag along the ground as they made their way down to The Grotto, where the ceremony would take place, and linked arms with both of her parents.

"Everybody ready to go?" All three nodded. "Okay then, it's show time."


	19. Firsts: Father's Day

Author's note: I have to start this off with a huge apology. Those of you who have been reading regularly will rightfully be expecting this chapter to conclude Wayne and Grace's wedding weekend. I set that story aside for a little while, because I was having trouble getting a handle on a few plot points, and unfortunately, I broke the flash drive the chapter - and the rest of the stories I've already published - is on. Until I can find someone who can retrieve the data for me, (or I decide to just start the whole thing over from scratch, which may be easier) that part of the story is on hold. But I promise I will wrap it up. In the meantime, I didn't want you all to feel I'd completely abandoned the Rigsby family, so here's a look at what is undoubtedly the most eventful Father's Day in history. _mea culpa_, guys. - aml

* * *

_Too early in the morning, Sunday, June 17_

Grace had been asleep barely an hour, after spending the previous two hours trying to calm her fussy four-month-old back to sleep, when a fleet of Stormtroopers suddenly invaded the quiet, peaceful beach she was relaxing on. Confused, she was quickly dragged out of her dream state and into consciousness at the realization that her cell phone was ringing – the Imperial March from _Star Wars_, her personalized ringtone for her husband's partner. She dove for the phone in a barely-controlled panic.

"Cho? What's going on? What time is it? Is Wayne okay? Where are you?"

Cho's voice was calm, but she could tell from his tone that he was frustrated and angry. "Grace, I'm really sorry to wake you up like this. It's a little bit before two. There was an incident during our surveillance shift, and Wayne's being taken to Sacramento General. He's okay, though, the worst of it is a possible broken wrist. You should see what the other guy looks like."

Grace chuckled wanly. "I'm not sure I want to know. Is he already on his way?"

"Yeah. The ambulance left about fifteen minutes ago. I have a couple of dings I need to have stitched up, but I'm going to drive myself, so I'll be there when you get there."

"Okay. It's going to take me a little while to wrangle Lucy, so I probably won't be able to make it over there for a half-hour at least."

Cho cursed under his breath. "Grace, I totally forgot that you'd have to wake up the baby. I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have called. I can bring him home if it's too much trouble for you."

"It's fine. I'd rather you have called and woken me up, than to wake up when Wayne got home and find him all banged up. Just promise me you'll stick around until I get there?"

"Of course, no problem. I'll see you when you get here."

Grace absentmindedly disconnected the call and changed out of her pajamas in a hurry. Still half-asleep, she splashed several handfuls of water on her face before bracing herself to wake Lucy. She scurried around the nursery as quietly as possible, tossing essentials into a small diaper bag before gently scooping the sleeping baby out of her crib. Lucy fussed, but to Grace's relief, didn't wake up. She cuddled her daughter close, carefully tiptoeing down the stairs and out the back door to her car. Grace hoped she was home free, but Lucy launched into a screaming fit just as she was buckling her into the car seat. Struggling to keep her composure and keep from crying herself, Grace tried reasoning with her daughter. "Sweetheart, I know you don't want to be awake right now, but I need you to work with me, please. We have to go pick up Daddy at the hospital. I promise we won't stay any longer than we have to, but it's going to be okay. He's going to be fine and we'll be home before you know it."

Unfortunately for Grace's nerves, Lucy cried the entire 20-minute drive to the emergency room. As she pulled into a parking space, Grace briefly considered waiting for Lucy to cry herself out before going inside; she decided against it upon realizing that it could take forever for the baby to calm down, and she'd probably just erupt all over again when surrounded by unfamiliar sights and sounds. Opting to leave her in the car seat, Grace expertly gathered up her bags and the baby, bolting for the ER doors as quickly as she could. She immediately saw Kimball Cho sitting in the visitor's lounge, large patches of gauze covering what she assumed were sets of stitches. Cho was relieved to see she'd finally arrived.

"Hey, Grace. I'm sorry again about all of this."

Setting Lucy down on one of the chairs, she leaned over to give him a gentle hug. "Cho, don't apologize. Unless this is all your fault, in which case, by all means, apologize away."

"Fortunately, no. Lisbon would have dragged us on the carpet if we'd triggered what happened tonight."

"And what, exactly, did happen? This was supposed to be routine surveillance, wasn't it?"

"Yep. This was actually supposed to be the final night; the task force was planning to execute the raid tomorrow night. However, we got stuck babysitting two of the most boot agents in the group, and they got antsy. Managed to convince themselves that the workers in the meth lab were on to us and waiting until tomorrow night was going to be too late. So they decided to take matters into their own hands. They were already rushing the building before Rigsby and I figured out what was going on, and we had to call for emergency backup before going in. We got really lucky, Grace; our intel told us that this group, for whatever reason, didn't keep weapons in the lab, and that info was good. Even though there weren't a whole lot of people there tonight, if they'd had guns, we'd have been in big trouble." Cho rarely acknowledged the few occasions on which the Serious Crimes Unit had either been outmanned or outgunned; his reaction to this incident told Grace all she needed to know about the seriousness of the situation.

"Are you okay, Cho?"

"I'm good, Grace, just a few scratches that needed stitches. Wayne took the brunt of it. They finished setting his cast about 20 minutes ago. You'll need to talk to the head nurse about when they'll let him go home."

Grace leaned over and gave him a peck on the cheek. "Go home, Cho. We'll take it from here," she said as she stood, gathering her bags in one arm and Lucy in the other. As she approached the main desk, she cleared her throat to attract the head nurse's attention. "Hi, my name is Grace Rigsby, my husband is a CBI Agent who was brought in maybe an hour ago from a crime scene? Can you tell me where he is?"

The nurse retrieved a clipboard off the wall. "Your husband is behind curtain three, Mrs. Rigsby. According to my notes, he has a fractured left wrist, bruised ribs, a nasty shiner and three stitches under his left eye. Ortho just finished setting his wrist a little while ago. He's a little loopy still from the pain medication the paramedics gave him, I should warn you. Kept insisting he didn't want to be seen by someone named Lucy?"

The nurse's confusion cleared when Grace lifted the car seat up and set it on the desk. "Lucy is our daughter."

"I see," she nodded, "that makes more sense. She's beautiful. How old is she?"

"Four months. Out of curiosity, why did the paramedics give my husband pain meds? He has an unusually high pain tolerance."

The nurse peered at the file on her clipboard. "According to their notes, they splinted your husband's wrist at the scene in order to stabilize it, and he was arguing that a cast wouldn't be necessary and asked to be released so he could go home. They gave him a mild dose of Percocet to get him to be more cooperative."

Grace laughed in spite of herself. "That sounds like Wayne. He's not a big fan of emergency rooms. Can you point me in his direction please?"

"Curtain three is in the back corner. Hit the call button if you need us for anything. I'll have the attending check in on you in a half-hour or so, by that point all of the discharge paperwork should be ready and you can take him home," the nurse replied as she returned to her paperwork.

Grace braced herself for the worst as she quietly tugged back the curtain surrounding Wayne's bed. She was relieved to see that he was apparently sound asleep, and that he didn't look too much the worse for wear. Lucy, who had been remarkably well-behaved for the past 20 minutes, was clearly tired of being stuck in her car seat and getting very fidgety. Setting the seat down on a nearby chair, Grace rummaged around in her bag for her sling and a pacifier. She knelt down on the floor in front of the chair in order to extract Lucy from her car seat with a minimum of fussing, coaxing her daughter to accept the pacifier as a distraction. Grace wrapped her up snugly in the sling and started pacing quietly, hoping to lull her sleep. Once Lucy was snoozing, she eased down gently on the edge of the bed to take stock of her husband's injuries. His left arm was in a sling, fingers poking out from a black fiberglass cast that extended up to his knuckles and, if she had to guess, probably down to his elbow. A small bandage on his left cheekbone covered a cut that had required three stitches and a yellowish-purple bruise was blooming in a ring around his eye. She traced the edges of the bruise gently, trying to determine the extent of the swelling.

"Ouch," he mumbled, half-heartedly trying to swat Grace's hand away with his good arm.

"I'm sorry, Wayne. I was just trying to get a feel for the damage."

"How bad is it?"

"Open your eyes and I can give you a more accurate assessment," she instructed. He did as was told, blinking rapidly with his right eye to adjust to the lighting; his left eye was almost completely swollen shut. "We'll have to ice that down as soon as we get home."

"I asked Cho not to call you," he replied petulantly.

"You'd rather scare the hell out of me by coming home in the middle of the night looking like you've just gone three rounds with Rocky Balboa? Not acceptable, Wayne," Grace responded angrily.

"I just didn't want you to worry."

Grace wiped away a stray tear. "I worry about you every morning when you leave for work. It comes with the territory of being married to you. But then I remember that you work with some of the best agents I know, and I know that no matter what, they will do everything they can to help keep you safe. So, none of this 'don't worry about me' crap, because it's not happening."

"You're right, Grace. I'm sorry," he replied, suitably chastened.

"Let me see if I can flag down a doctor around here so we can get you discharged and go home. Lucy's already over all the excitement."

As if on cue, a tall, skinny, frazzled-looking doctor in his late twenties rounded the corner and pulled back the curtain, nearly bumping into Grace while reviewing Wayne's file.

"Pardon me, I assume you're Mrs. Rigsby?" Grace nodded. "Agent Rigsby, how's the pain medication holding up?"

"I feel fine, and I'm still pissed at the paramedics for giving me Percocet," Wayne grumbled.

The doctor coughed into his sleeve to cover up a laugh. "I will take that as a request not to give you a script for more medication, then. Your vitals all look good, and you're already set with the sling, so we're going to send you home. You have strict instructions not to do any heavy lifting for at least a week, get an ice pack on that eye as soon as you get home, and keep your arm elevated whenever you're resting. You obviously don't have to wear the sling at night, but I would recommend keeping it on at all times otherwise, since you'll be in that cast for six weeks, at a minimum. Once the swelling goes down on your eye, I would strongly recommend setting an appointment with your optometrist, just to make sure there isn't any permanent damage to your eyesight. Any questions? No? Perfect. Drive carefully on your way home." With that, he spun on his heel and disappeared into the bowels of the hospital.

"Okay, that was a little weird," Grace muttered as she tucked Lucy back into the car seat. Turning around, she finally noticed that Wayne was only wearing his dress pants and an undershirt. "Honey, where's all your stuff?"

"I think there's a bag sitting next to the bed," pointing to the floor on his right side, "my gun, badge, wallet and phone should be in it. My shirt's probably in an evidence bag somewhere. The paramedics had to cut it off me in the ambulance. The tweaker who tried to use me for boxing practice bled all over it."

Grace frowned. "I wish Cho had said something, I would have brought you a shirt to wear home."

Wayne sat up very gingerly, swinging his legs off the side of the bed and standing up carefully. "Don't worry about it, sweetheart. My arm feels so heavy I can barely lift it anyway. I just want to go home, soak in the tub for an hour, and go to sleep."

Grace wrapped her free arm around his waist the best she could, and they headed out to the car. Father and daughter both slept through the ride home, and Grace left Wayne in the car as she unpacked all of Lucy's stuff and put her back to bed. Wayne was still half-asleep by the time she came back.

"Honey," she whispered, "c'mon, time to wake up. We're home."

Wayne was still a little befuddled thanks to the medication. "How long have we been home?"

"Probably twenty minutes. I can only wrangle one baby at a time, so I went ahead and put Lucy back to bed first," she teased gently.

"Very funny."

"Come on, sleeping beauty, let's get you upstairs. I have a hot bath waiting for you and we need to get an ice pack on your eye." She wrapped his good arm around her shoulders and led him up to their second-floor master bathroom, where she helped him undress and slip into their oversized claw-foot tub. Grace winced visibly at the sight of the bruising around his ribs – black and blue blotches of varying sizes. As he relaxed into the hot water, she tenderly kissed his forehead. "Be right back." She reappeared a few minutes later with the ice pack.

"Ouch, Grace, jeez, that stings," he hissed as she pressed the pack on his face.

"You'll live, and you'll thank me later when you can actually open your eye all the way." Grace slumped to the floor, back against the wall opposite the tub, and closed her eyes tiredly. "So are you going to tell me what happened, or do I have to call Lisbon in the morning?"

"Cho gave you the basics, I assume?" Grace nodded. "Those two idiots we were dealing with tonight had no business being on this task force. Barely six months out of the academy. Decided they wanted their names in the papers, so they tossed all the very carefully laid-out plans by the wayside and stormed the lab themselves a little after midnight. Cho and I had to put the call in to the task force's main office to request emergency backup, but we couldn't wait for them to arrive before going in ourselves. I won't sugarcoat how lucky we got, Grace. If it hadn't been for the facts that there were relatively few people at the lab tonight, and that for whatever reason, this crew doesn't keep guns on hand, the damage could have been a lot worse. You should have seen Lisbon when she got to the scene. I have never in my life seen her more furious. I wouldn't be surprised if her first stop on Monday is the PSU's office to demand the badges of everyone on the task force. They'll be lucky if they still have jobs by lunchtime."

Grace laughed. If anyone could accomplish exactly what Wayne was suggesting, it was Teresa Lisbon. "I hope we don't have reporters calling in the morning."

"Lisbon specifically forbid the Public Information Office from revealing either of our names. Said it was unnecessary. So I don't think that would be a problem. We can't comment on the record anyway."

"Next time, how about not volunteering for the potentially dangerous surveillance shifts, okay honey?" Grace asked sardonically as she got up to get ready for bed, again.

Wayne peered over at her in confusion. "This shift wasn't supposed to be anything remarkable, Grace. And we didn't volunteer. This was the only shift we were supposed to pitch in on, and Cho and I drew the short straws. Trust me, I would never have volunteered for this, especially if I'd had any idea who we were dealing with."

Grace changed back into her discarded pajamas and retrieved extra pillows from the closet, setting up a wall of sorts on the edge of Wayne's side of the bed, to keep his arm elevated and prevent him from rolling over onto his side in his sleep. By the time Wayne re-emerged from his bath, Grace was asleep, and he chuckled at the notion of having to climb over the pillow barricade to get to bed. Somehow he managed without waking his wife, who shifted to wrap her arms around him protectively.

"I love you, Grace. And I'm sorry I put you through all this."

* * *

Wayne drifted awake later that morning to find Grace's half of the bed empty, and cool. Squinting at the alarm clock, he realized she'd let him sleep in very late, as it was close to 10:30. He dressed slowly, trying to adjust to the minimal agility in his left hand, and headed downstairs, where he found Grace in the kitchen prepping breakfast, and Lucy sitting happily in her bouncy seat, babbling away and tossing toys hither and yon. Wayne gathered up the toys that ringed the floor and set them aside, attempting to bend over and give her a kiss, but the pain in his ribs left him nearly doubled over.

"Honey, don't strain yourself like that," Grace admonished as she picked up Lucy and lifted her up so she could give her daddy a kiss. "Happy Father's Day, sweetheart."

"Thanks, babe. I honestly forgot all about it, after everything that happened last night. What a way to celebrate, huh?"

"Tell me about it," Grace replied as she settled Lucy back in the bouncy seat and returned to her cooking. "Breakfast will be ready in a few."

"Lisbon wouldn't happen to have called already, would she?"

"As a matter of fact, she did. She reiterated that we are, under no circumstances, to be talking to any reporters. I already checked the front page of today's paper; the article about the raid is pretty short. I'd guess that they barely made deadline last night and something more substantial will run tomorrow. No calls so far, though. I'm screening anything from unfamiliar numbers. Also, you are officially on medical leave for a full week. No setting foot in the office until next Monday, at which point you will be on desk duty until the cast comes off."

Wayne grimaced at the words "desk duty," a reaction that did not escape Grace's notice. "Wayne, I know what's going through your head. No way are you going to try to get that cast off before your arm is fully healed. Period. Lisbon would suspend you before she'd allow that to happen."

"Okay, okay, I promise, I'll be good, no bribing the orthopedist. I haven't had a vacation since Lucy was born, so I will try to relax during this unexpected time off."

"You'll be a one-armed Mr. Mom," Grace joked. If Wayne had been drinking something, he would have done a spit take at his wife's occasionally dry attempts at humor.

Grace set down glasses of juice, butter, maple syrup and a heaping plate of Belgian waffles on the breakfast table. Wayne wrapped his arm around her waist and tugged into his lap, instead letting her sit down across the table. She peppered his face with gentle kisses, paying extra attention to the area around his bruised eye. He was bruised and battered, and she knew it wouldn't be the last time it happened, but he was in one piece and that was reason enough for celebration.

Picking up their glasses, she proposed a toast. "A toast, to the best daddy I know. Happy Father's Day, Wayne. Here's hoping this is the most memorable one we'll have for a while."

Their glasses clinked together as Wayne replied wistfully, "Amen to that."


	20. Famous First Words

_A/N: This chapter occurs about seven months after chapter nineteen; Lucy is just a few weeks away from her first birthday._

_

* * *

__Thursday, 9PM_

Wayne Rigsby trudged slowly to his SUV parked on the first level of the CBI parking garage. It had been a long, unproductive day, and the weather on this early January evening – cold, rainy and dreary – matched his mood perfectly. _Time to go home and put this godawful day behind me_, he mused as he pulled out of the garage and drove home.

The house was mostly dark as he pulled into the driveway; the only lights still on were upstairs in the master bedroom and a night light in Lucy's nursery. He went straight upstairs and was surprised to find Grace sitting in the middle of the bed surrounded by paperwork. She had a home office downstairs and typically refused to work anywhere else in the house.

"What's going on, honey? You never bring work upstairs," he observed, confused.

Grace finished signing a stack of request forms and looked up, exasperated. "Your daughter is, for some reason, on a sleep strike tonight, and I needed to get these forms taken care of before I head in to the office tomorrow. This was the last of it though, so I'm done for the day." She recognized the downcast look on his face and the slump of his shoulders, and quickly set aside her papers, patting the now-open spot next to her on the bed. "C'mere, something's wrong. Talk to me."

He hung up his sportcoat in the closet, loosening his tie as he sagged down onto the bed. "It's just this case we're working, Grace. All the evidence points directly to the husband. He had motive and opportunity. I just can't understand why someone would do what he did to his own wife and son. We interviewed him for five hours tonight and got nothing. He doesn't have a lawyer yet and his in-laws refuse to post his bail, so he's spending the night in lockup. I just don't get it, Grace. I would rather die than let anything bad happen to you or Lucy. And I would kill myself before I ever allowed myself to try to hurt either of you. How could this guy let his problems get so bad?"

"I don't know, honey. I wish I had answers for you. But you and I both know that some people, for whatever reason, just let their issues spiral out of control until they feel like they're out of options. We're not those people, we know that we can work through our problems better together," she reassured him as she tried to massage some of the tension out of his shoulders. They sat in silence for several minutes; Lucy's babbling over the baby monitor brought them both back into the moment.

"She's awake again," Grace sighed as she rested her chin on his shoulder. "I swear, I think she's been waiting for you to get home."

"I guess I should go check on her, then."

Rigsby slowly and quietly opened the door to Lucy's nursery, peeking in just enough to see if she was truly awake, or just fussing in her sleep. Unfortunately, she was sitting up in her crib, clad in red flannel footy pajamas, clutching her favorite lovey – a stuffed Snoopy doll she'd received for Christmas that had quickly risen to the rank of most favored, refuses-to-leave-the-house-without-him companion – and patiently waiting for one of her parents to show up.

"Hey punkin," he whispered as he leaned over her crib, "whatcha doin' still up? It's sleeping time, not awake time." She reached up – one hand still gripping Snoopy tightly – and Wayne, unable to ever deny his daughter when she wanted cuddle time, semi-reluctantly plucked her out of her crib and sat in the glider to rock her back to sleep. "Were you waiting up for me, driving Mommy crazy? I'm sorry I came home so late, sweetheart. Sometimes I can't leave the office when I want to, and I miss you so much. Sometimes I wish I had a job that didn't have such crazy hours, but what Mommy and I do is pretty important. I know you can't understand that right now, but I hope when you're a little older, it will make sense and you won't hate us for it. We love you so much, and you are more important to us than anything." Wayne peeked down at Lucy, thinking for sure she'd be asleep, but instead, she looked right back up at her daddy, offering him Snoopy to make him feel better.

"Dada?" she whispered uncertainly as she stuck the stuffed dog in his face.

"Aw, sweetie, you don't have to – wait a second," he paused, peering back down at her curiously, "did you just say 'dada'?" Lucy giggled and gave him her most toothy grin before burying her face in his shoulder. "You did, didn't you? Come on, let's go show Mommy."

Grace was half-asleep as Wayne crawled onto the bed, poking her awake. "Grace, you won't believe what Lucy just did. Lucy, tell Mommy what you just said."

Lucy reached over for a hug from her mother, squealing, "Mama!" as she dove into Grace's arms. Grace had to laugh as the excitement on her husband's face quickly deflated.

"She said 'dada' not two minutes ago, I swear."

"I believe you."

"You do?"

"Yep. She said it earlier today, actually, when we were at lunch with Cecelia. I had her sitting in her stroller by the window so she could look outside while we were eating, she saw an SUV drive by, pointed at it, and shouted 'dada'. I tried to call and tell you, but you were out in the field, and Cece and I couldn't get her to repeat it. You were so busy this afternoon, I figured I'd tell you when you came home, and we would see if we could get her to do it again in the morning. And then you got home, and you were so out of sorts, I just forgot about it. But you got to hear her for yourself, anyway. You stinker," she teased Lucy lovingly as she placed multiple kisses on her chubby cheeks, "you really were waiting up for Daddy so you could make him feel better, weren't you?"

"Whether she did it on purpose or not, it worked."

"Good. Okay, missy, now that you're done showing off for Daddy, it's time for bed and I mean it."

Wayne leaned over to give Lucy a good night kiss, and tucked Snoopy under her arm. "Good night, baby girl. I love you," he whispered.

Grace returned about ten minutes later, climbing stealthily under the covers and snuggling up next to Wayne, waking him up with her cold feet and hands.

"Grace, I will never understand how you manage to have such cold feet, even though we have the heat on and you wear slippers around the house," he grumbled.

"It's a talent, I suppose," she acknowledged. "How are you doing?" she asked as she gently started stroking his face. "Feeling better than you did when you got home?"

Wayne turned to kiss the palm of her hand. "Yeah, much better, actually. I'm sorry I was so out of it earlier. I wish I could shake this case, leave it at the office, but I just can't. That's not fair to you or Lucy."

She cupped his cheeks in her hands and gave him a comforting kiss. "I understand, and I assure you, Lucy doesn't notice. And we both love you no matter what kind of crazy mood you're in."

Wayne shifted onto his side, wrapped his arms around Grace and burrowed further under the covers.

"Right backatcha, babe."


	21. Close Call

_One line. Please, __**please **__let it be one line. _

Grace was sitting on the cold tile floor of the master bathroom, knees hugged closely to her chest, impatiently staring down the five minutes counting down on the kitchen timer sitting at her feet. The house was empty; Wayne and Lucy had gone on their traditional Saturday morning playdate at the park, and it was their turn to do the grocery shopping afterward.

The silence in the house was deafening, especially in comparison to the mantra running through Grace's head, louder and louder as the seconds slowly ticked off the clock.

_One line, one line, please let it only be one line …_

_

* * *

__Three weeks earlier_

Wayne and Grace pulled into the driveway late on a Saturday night, having enjoyed a rare adults-only night out. Dinner at their favorite Italian restaurant was followed by a bottle of wine and a shared slice of double chocolate cake at a nearby dessert bar. Grace in particular had reveled at the opportunity to dress up and spend one-on-one time with her husband. She'd purchased an emerald green ruched jersey dress with a deep v-neck specifically for the occasion, and she was quite certain Wayne wasn't the only one who had appreciated the effort. They'd held hands, played a tentative game of footsie under the table at dinner, and sneaking in furtive makeout sessions when they hoped no one was looking. Now here they were, sitting in the dark, unwilling to spoil the mood by getting out of the car.

"Do you think Missy would notice if we just stayed in the car for a little while?" Wayne pondered.

Grace chuckled, as she'd been thinking along the same lines. "Well, you can't see the driveway from the living room, but I'm sure she heard us pull up, so it might be a little awkward. Let's send the poor girl home." Grace only got as far as unbuckling her seat belt before Wayne wrapped one arm around her waist, tugging her across the bucket seats into his lap.

"Have I told you recently how amazingly beautiful you looked tonight?" he asked in between gentle nips and nibbles around her neck.

She threaded her long fingers through the hair at the nape of his neck, subtly but firmly guiding his caresses. "Only five or six times since we originally left the house, I think. I'm glad you noticed, though."

"How could I not? I wasn't the only one paying attention, either. But you know why it doesn't bother me if other men take a look?"

Grace moaned as he expertly suckled on her pulse point with just enough pressure to be felt, but not so much as to leave a visible mark. "Why is that?"

"Because I'm the one who gets to come home to you every night. Those other guys can look all they want, but none of them get to know what you look like under these clothes. They don't know what you like, or how to make you scream. So yeah, they can look, but only I get to touch."

"Mmmm. Yes, you do. And you can continue to touch all you like, just as soon as we send the babysitter home, okay?"

"Promise?" he asked hopefully, not daring to look up at her for fear that she was yanking his chain.

"Promise," she whispered seductively, nibbling his earlobe for emphasis. Wayne threw the driver's side door open and was halfway across their front lawn before Grace caught up to him.

Missy Fitzgerald, Lucy's favorite babysitter, was packing up her laptop and gathering up a few books when they walked in the door. The 16-year-old lived a couple of blocks away and came highly recommended by other families in the neighborhood when Wayne and Grace had been interviewing potential babysitters. It helped that she was more than a little bit intimidated by the prospect of sitting for a pair of CBI agents, and subsequently made sure she was always on her best behavior when looking after Lucy.

"Hi, Mr. and Mrs. Rigsby, did you have a good evening?" she asked cheerfully, stuffing her books into her backpack and shrugging into a hoodie.

"We did, thank you for asking, Missy," Wayne replied as he hung up their coats in the front closet, digging for his wallet in the process.

"Did Lucy settle down eventually?" Grace asked.

"Yep. She fussed for a half-hour or so, but once she realized it was just the two of us, she was fine. I gave her a bath, we read some bedtime stories, and she finally talked herself to sleep about an hour ago, I guess. She's a really easygoing baby, I like sitting for her."

"Well, we certainly like having you. Here's your hard-earned forty dollars, don't spend it all in one place," Wayne joked as he handed over two crisp $20 bills.

Missy blushed. "I won't, sir. Thank you." Wayne escorted her out to the front porch and watched to make sure she made it to her car, parked in front of the house at the end of the sidewalk. No sooner had she fired up the engine and pulled away than the front door opened and Grace had yanked him back inside the house, where she pounced, clawing at his tie, the buttons on his shirt, and his belt all at once.

"Grace, what are you-"

She silenced him with a bruising kiss, while walking them backward into the living room, stumbling around furniture while stripping off various articles of clothing and finally tugging him down onto the couch on top of her. "I keep my promises."

"But-" he sputtered, trying unsuccessfully to still her hands, "condoms are upstairs-"

"Don't care."

He nearly bit her lower lip in shock. "What?"

She put just enough space between them in order to shimmy out of her dress, revealing a lace bra and panties in a matching shade of green. "You heard me. Want you now."

"What if-"

"We'll cross that bridge if we get to it."

* * *

The insistent beeping of the timer shocked Grace back into the present, indicating that her five minutes of stomach-twisting waiting were finally up. She took a deep breath and retrieved the test stick from its spot on the bathroom counter.

One line.

Negative.

_Not pregnant._

A multitude of emotions welled up. Relief, coupled with anger at herself for being so careless. A deep and abiding conviction that this was not the right time to be adding to their family. Anxiety about what Wayne's reaction would be, and a fleeting debate over whether she should even tell him. _How can I explain to him how glad I am that we're not having another baby? _she asked herself. _Would he understand, and accept that I'm not ready for this yet?_ Aside from a brief discussion about her going back on the pill after Lucy had finished nursing (and the subsequent appearance, without further comment, of a box of condoms in their nightstand), they hadn't even really seriously talked about when to try to get pregnant again. She started to cry, sobbing uncontrollably for a solid ten minutes, distracting her from hearing Wayne and Lucy arrive home.

Wayne had finished putting away all the groceries, and was about to take Lucy upstairs to put her down for her nap, when he realized that although Grace was home, the house was eerily quiet. After settling the baby in her nursery, he decided to investigate, and found the master bathroom door closed. He knocked softly.

"Grace? Honey, is everything okay?" Hearing only muffled sniffling coming from inside, he opened the door carefully. It didn't take a trained mentalist like Patrick Jane to understand what was going on judging by all the detritus on the floor. Crumpled kleenex, an empty cardboard box and various sheets of instructions surrounded his sobbing wife, her eyes red and swollen from crying. Seeing him in the doorway trigged another outbreak, and he could think of no other option than to kneel on the floor and wrap her up in his arms until her tears subsided. He rocked her gently, stroking her hair and just waiting for her to calm down to the point that they could talk about the situation.

"It's negative," she mumbled against his chest.

"How long have you suspected?"

"It didn't even occur to me until this morning. I looked at the calendar and noticed that I hadn't moved it to November, and that's when it hit me that I was a couple of days late. I panicked and went straight to the drugstore."

"Is it possible that the test is wrong?" he asked uncertainly. They hadn't gone through this process with Lucy, since Grace's first pregnancy had come as a pleasant surprise.

Grace shook her head. "False negatives are almost unheard of. There's a second test, and I'll take it tomorrow morning just to be sure, but I'm pretty certain I'm not pregnant."

Wayne processed this information for a few minutes. "How do you feel about this, Grace?"

Grace extricated herself from his embrace, stood up to splash some water on her face, then sat back down on the floor to face him, and the potentially uncomfortable conversation that would ensue. "I'm relieved, Wayne," she said hesitantly. "I'm sorry," she whispered as tears started to flow again, "but I'm just not ready for another baby yet."

He pulled her into his lap, enveloping her in a tight hug. "Don't be sorry, Grace. If that's how you feel, it's how you feel. There's nothing wrong with it. We haven't really talked about the possibility, so I don't blame you at all. But I have to ask you, and I want you to answer me honestly: would it have been okay if it had been positive?"

Grace pulled back, and the questioning look in his eyes nearly broke her heart. "Yes, of course. It wouldn't have been my ideal timing to have two kids under the age of two at the same time, but we would have made it work, absolutely."

"Do you even **want** another baby? I mean, we **really** haven't talked about any of this, at least not seriously. I guess there's no time like the present, right?"

"Yes, Wayne, I definitely want another baby, just not right now. Lucy is still so little, I want more time with her that's just the three of us. And I feel selfish for even saying this, but I feel like I'm still just getting my body and my energy back from being pregnant and from these first few months with her. I just want a little time to be a woman again before getting back into baby mode. I'm sorry that we had to have this conversation this way. It's not fair to you."

"It takes two to tango, Grace. I'm just as responsible for this as you are. For the record, though, even when you were pregnant you were the sexiest woman I've ever known. I guess I'll have to get back in the habit of carrying around protection all the time, just in case. Haven't had to do that since my college days," he joked with a slight leer.

"We will definitely have to be more careful," she agreed, snuggling up against his chest as he leaned back against the closed door.

"So, as long as we're on the topic of another baby, what kind of a timeline are we talking about here? Another year?" he wondered aloud as he absentmindedly ran his fingers through her hair.

"Maybe we wait until Lucy turns two. I kind of like the idea of potentially having only one child in diapers at a time."

"Okay, another sixteen months or so, then. I suppose I can wait that long," he teased.

They snuggled quietly. Grace's breathing had become so deep and even that Wayne thought she'd fallen asleep.

"A little boy," she muttered dreamily.

"Excuse me?" he asked, completely confused.

"I was just thinking about our hypothetical future baby. I think I'd like a little boy. A rambunctious little guy with his daddy's dimples, and most likely his appetite, who loves football and dinosaurs and Tonka trucks, and who follows his big sister around like she's the greatest thing since sliced bread. I think that would be good. One of each."

"A little boy, hmm. Well, I can't make any promises, but I will certainly do my best to make that happen."

Grace abruptly stood up and reached to pull Wayne up off the floor. "I'm glad we ended up having this conversation, even though it came out of the blue. And I love you so much for being a caring, understanding husband and an amazing father." She punctuated her statement with a firm kiss.

He swept her off her feet and carried her, fireman style, into their bedroom, tossing her on the bed. "I love you too, Grace. You are ridiculously sexy, and the only woman I ever wanted to be the mother of my children." They relaxed into each other, tangling up arms and legs, resting until Grace really did fall asleep.

As she napped, Wayne pondered the revelation that she wanted their next child to be a boy. He'd never revealed this to her, but every time he'd pictured their family in his mind's eye, they'd had two daughters. Two little princesses for him to dote on, to drive their mother crazy with their bickering, and to protect each other so fiercely it was as if their lives depended on it. He'd spent most of his life surrounded by women in one way or another; the idea was comforting.

_She wants a little boy_, he mused. _Do I even know what it means to raise a son?_

_You're learning how to raise a daughter_, he reminded himself. _You'll figure it out eventually._

He carefully tugged the hem of her t-shirt from the waistband of her jeans and tenderly stroked the faint few stretch marks that remained on Grace's belly.

_Some day. Not too soon, but some day._

He couldn't wait to do it all over again.


	22. Sleep Tight

_a/n: This is a (very) brief look further into the Rigsby family's future. I thought it would be interesting to try to tell a story from Lucy's perspective; I'm not entirely sure it works, because it's been a long time since I've been a three-year-old. Thoughts?_

* * *

Lucy Rigsby couldn't sleep.

It was a Friday night, and she'd been in bed for a while now, waiting for her daddy to get home, tuck her in and kiss her good night. She heard his heavy footfalls climbing the stairs, but instead of turning left at the top of the stairs, where her room was, the door to her brother's nursery opened, and she heard the baby fussing. Burrowing deeper under her covers, she decided she could be patient. So she waited.

And waited.

And waited a little more.

Worried that he'd forgotten about her, she decided to climb out of bed and check for herself. Shuffling quietly across the hall, she gently pushed the door open. Even though the only light was from the night light next to the baby's crib, she could see her daddy sitting in the rocking chair, talking to the baby.

"Daddy?" she asked uncertainly, worrying her thumb in her mouth.

Wayne looked up, startled to see his pajama-clad daughter standing in the middle of the nursery. "Lucy, is everything okay? What are you doing out of bed?"

"Couldn't seep, Daddy," she replied, trying to hold back tears because she knew she'd be in trouble for being up past her bedtime. "Was waiting for you to tuck me in."

Wayne waved her over. "C'mere, baby girl, come sit with us for a few minutes, okay?"

She climbed up onto her dad's lap and snuggled into his side. He smelled like pizza. Daddy was always in a good mood when he came home smelling like pizza. Pizza days were good days. "I sorry, Daddy."

He started gently stroking her hair, pausing to kiss her forehead, and she relaxed a little. "It's okay, punkin, I'm not mad. I promise I didn't forget to come tuck you in. Your brother was being fussy, and Mommy was really tired, so I told her I'd check on him. I would never forget to tuck you in and kiss you good night."

She inched a little closer to her baby brother, who was cradled on Daddy's shoulder, staring at her with his big brown eyes. "Why isn't he seepy, Daddy?"

"I don't know, sweetheart. He's little, so he can't really tell us. Maybe he's just a night owl."

"What's a night owl?"

Rigsby smiled. "Someone who likes to be awake when he really should be sleeping."

Lucy thought about this for a minute, then reached over to pat her brother's back, the way she'd seen her parents do many times already when they were trying to coax him to sleep. She put on her sternest voice and started lecturing him.

"It's nighttime, Lucky. Nighttime is seeping time. Nighttime is **not** awake time. Go to seep now, please? I go to seep if you will."

Lucky stretched, re-settled himself on Wayne's shoulder, yawned and finally allowed his eyes to droop closed, prompting Wayne to chuckle softly.

"Good job, Luce. I guess all he needed was a good talking-to from his big sister."

Lucy looked up, saw that Daddy was smiling, and kissed him on the cheek. "Can you tuck me in now, Daddy?"

"Let's give it a few more minutes, okay? I like snuggling with my best girl and my little guy."

"'Kay, Daddy." She liked snuggling with Daddy too.

Fifteen minutes later, both kids were asleep. Wayne awkwardly got up out of the chair and carefully laid the baby down in his crib. Lucy stirred just as he was tucking her into bed.

"Bedtime story, Daddy?" she asked hopefully.

"You know the rule, Lucy, one bedtime story a night. I'll read you your bedtime story tomorrow, okay?" She nodded sleepily.

"Good night, Lucy Goosey. I love you."

"Love you too, Daddy."


	23. Birthday Girl

_a/n: I was going to wait and post this on Monday, but after last night, I thought it might make a better pick-me-up going into the weekend. Hope all of you readers out there are well._

* * *

"Shh, sweetie, let's try not to wake Daddy, okay?"

Rigsby stood in the doorway of the nursery, watching Grace quietly pace the room with Lucy in her arms, her back to him. He'd woken up five minutes ago to the sound of Grace's voice cooing over the baby monitor. Once he noticed the time on the alarm clock, he understood immediately why she'd snuck out of bed to wake up their daughter.

Grace settled down on the couch, and finally noticed her husband's presence. Settling Lucy in her arms so she was snuggled in her lap, she smiled sheepishly.

"Hi, honey. Did I wake you?"

"Yes," he replied as he sat down next to her, gathering them both in his arms, "but I'm glad you did."

"She was fussing a little, and I would have just let her be, but I saw the clock and I realized what time it was, and I just couldn't help myself."

Lucy shifted in Grace's arms, peering at her daddy with a confused expression on her face. "Dada?"

He smoothed a stray wisp of dark brown hair off her forehead and leaned over to kiss his little girl. "It's okay, birthday girl, go back to sleep."

"Can you believe it's been a year already? Where did our baby girl go, Wayne?"

Wayne chuckled. "She's always going to be our baby girl, Grace. Even when she's a sullen teenager hating us for being horrible, mean parents."

"Let's not get too far ahead of ourselves. She's not even walking yet."

"No, but she's getting close. I think we're going to have to finish Lucy-proofing the house pretty soon."

"Maybe Mom and Dad can help us with that while they're here this weekend."

"That sounds like a good plan." Wayne leaned in to whisper in Lucy's ear, "Grandma and Pop-Pop are so excited to come see you, sweetheart. They're looking forward to your party on Saturday."

Grace absentmindedly stroked her daughter's hair. "I'm glad we decided to wait and have her party this weekend instead of having people over for dinner tonight. It will be nice to be able to celebrate with just the three of us. They are going to have a little gathering for her at daycare at lunchtime, though. One of her teachers makes cupcakes for every kid's birthday."

"That sounds like fun. Do you think they'd mind if I stopped by to say hello?"

Grace smiled. Since Lucy's daycare was in the building next door to the CBI's offices, they both had the ability to check in on her when their schedules allowed. Wayne in particular had made such a habit out of it in the first few weeks after Grace had gone back to work, that the manager had to ask him politely to stop coming, as he was disrupting Lucy's routine. "I'll ask when I drop her off. Maybe we can both swing by and crash the party."

Wayne gently nibbled his way up the crook of her shoulder to the sensitive spot just behind her ear. "And maybe afterwards we could move the party here, just us grown-ups?" he inquired suggestively.

Grace sighed contentedly. "I'll see if I can clear out my schedule tomorrow afternoon."

Wayne continued to nuzzle her neck gently as Grace drifted back to sleep. A quick glance at the clock on the wall said that it was 1:30 in the morning. Their baby girl was officially a year old now.

He'd never had much of a fondness for Valentine's Day, and even after he and Grace had gotten married, they agreed not to make a big deal out of the occasion. They knew they loved each other, and they demonstrated it in little, subtle ways all the time. Now they had a living, breathing reminder of their love and commitment with them every day. Lucy was their Valentine to each other, a gift that was irreplaceable.

He was startled out of his reverie by a soft "thump"; Lucy's stuffed Snoopy – her favored bedtime companion – falling to the ground. Eager to avoid a meltdown, he snatched the stuffed animal off the floor and quickly tucked him under her arm while simultaneously extracting her from her mother's embrace.

"Birthday girls need their beauty sleep," he murmured as he tucked her back in her crib. "Good night, Lucy Goosey. I love you."

Turning back to Grace, he realized she was completely dead to the world. He carefully scooped her up off the couch and carried her back to bed. Once she was tucked in, he climbed in next to her, chuckling when she instinctively turned to curl up next to him.

"I love you so much, Grace. Happy Valentine's Day."

She cuddled deeper into his arms, clasping her left hand in his right, threading their fingers together.

"I love you too, Wayne.

I'm yours, always."


End file.
